USUK Moments
by LucyMoon1992
Summary: Sometimes funny, cute or even sad, these one-shots are sure to warm your heart! USUK! Enjoy!
1. The Disguise Pen Series Part One

_Well, well, well, looks like I'm back! I've changed some things but please tell me what ya think! It's good to be back, my friends, it's good to be back! Enjoy!_

_One: The Disguise Pen Series- Part One._

* * *

England frowned at Wales as he held out his hand for England to take the object in it.

"Why are you giving me a _pen _again?"

Wales sighed, shaking his hand impatiently.

"I told you, _it's magic! _All you have to do it shout out what you want to be turned into and it does exactly that! It's amazing!" Wales grinned as England raised his eyebrows at his brother dubiously.

"Of course, Dylan, whatever you say…"

"I'm serious!" Wales whined, "Look, I'll prove it to you!"

Wales cleared his throat and then, throwing his hand into the air, he exclaimed, "Disguise Pen! Turn me into a handsome sailor!"

Suddenly the room was filled with smoke and when it all cleared, England's jaw dropped. Because standing in front of him was indeed Wales but dressed as a sailor.

"I don't believe it…"England whispered, eyes widening.

"I told you! Pretty cool, huh?"

England shook his head in disbelief a few times and then narrowed his eyes on Wales.

"If this is so amazing, why are you giving it to me?"

"I've had my fun with it already. I've scared everyone enough times now so I'm handing it to you. I _was _thinking of giving it to Scotland or Northern Ireland but then I realised chaos would ensue if I did that so I thought you would be the perfect person for it!" Wales smiled at his brother and then looked at his watch.

"Aw crap! It's ten to two! I gotta go and so do you; you have a G8 meeting at your house in ten minutes!"

England give a yelp and grabbing the pen from Wales and giving him a quick hug, he sprinted out into the garden, got into his car and drove quickly away.

Wales watched him and grinned.

'Oo, this is going to be interesting…'

'England, you're totally late.'

England scowled as he entered his drawing room, for all seven countries where already present when he arrived. America, of course, just _had _to comment on his tardiness.

"I apologise everyone. I was held up with family affairs."

"Which one was it this time?" France asked, taking a draw from his cigarette, "It can't be Irlande du Nord because she stayed at my hous-"

"Stop talking. _Now_." England gritted out through his teeth, "But if you must know, it was Wales. Now, can we start the meeting?"

"I don't know dude." America said, flopping down on a seat at the head of the table while England sat down at the other end, glaring at the American. "Maybe if you arrived on time we would have been able to start sooner. Heck, we would have been into the meeting 15 minutes by now if it wasn't for you. And showing up late to a meeting at your own house no less…_pitiful_."

England dug his nails into his chair, stopping himself from jumping up on the table and lunging at America.

"And _you_ are wasting even more time nagging me about it so if you would just shut up, we may be able-"

"Shut up? Geez, England, I don't like your attitude. Maybe I'll just go if you continue to speak to me like that."

All other members were watching the two nations, enthralled by their argument. America always sought to piss England off, no matter what. They all supposed he still held a nasty grudge against him for trying to control him and so showed it through sarcasm and name-calling.

England swallowed hard, nearly shaking with rage. _What the fuck is America's problem? I won't rise to this. I am going to be the mature one here. _He took a deep breath.

"Again, I apologise. I didn't mean to insult you and for that I am sorry. With your go ahead, I would like to start the meeting." He hated himself when he had to talk to America like this. It made him _sick._

America, positively shining with glee simply nodded his head and England, trying his hardest not to glower at the man opposite him, began talking.

The meeting ended after 2 and half hours of non-stop talking and a couple of fights between England and France. They all agreed to meet up again tomorrow lunchtime, same place. France decided to stay afterwards for a couple of drinks and as everyone else of leaving America called out,

'Here, England, suppose you could be _on time_ tomorrow?' Everyone else laughed as England heard the door close.

Standing still for a moment, he walked into the kitchen, followed by France, went to one of his cupboards, got a huge bowl out and then with a painfully loud scream of rage, hurled the bowl at the wall.

"Argh!" England howled, slamming his fists down on the counter, "that…that _American! _Who does he think he is, talking to me like that? Trying to make himself look all impressive! _Oh, I'm America, and I think I can talk to the only person who ever cared for me anyway I want to because I'M A FUCKING ASSHOLE!"_

France watched his friend, smirking slightly at him before interrupting his little rant.

"Angleterre, you must stop this silly nonsense. You can't get back at him."

England's head suddenly snapped up and he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Disguise Pen. France's brow furrowed.

"What it _that_?" He asked, intrigued.

"This is America's worst nightmare. I was late to the meeting because Wales gave me _this_." He held out the pen proudly and France stared at him blankly.

'Hm, oui, a pen. How extraordinary." He commented dryly but England shook his head.

"No, really, it is. It's magical! This pen transforms you into anything you want to be! And I know exactly what to do with it, and it's all thanks you Frog!"

"But I haven't said anything!" France said, trying to grasp the idea of a transforming pen.

"No, but you being here always makes me think of lust. Because all you do is talk about sex and romance and how lust can drive a person insane with longing."

"Ok…but how does this fit with America?"

England smirked wildly, "I'm going to transform myself into America's object of desire and then make him suffer by rejecting him! It's perfect!"

"I don't know," France said faltering, "Don't you think you're taking this a bit too far?"

'Oh come on France! The guy annoys the hell out of you too! Wouldn't you like to see him get a taste of his own medicine?'

France smiled slightly. "I suppose I would. Okay then, I am looking forward to this; God knows you may turn into a hamburger!" France laughed and England chuckled.

"I wouldn't put it pass him to lust after something so ridiculous; okay, here goes."

Throwing his right hand into the air, England yelled,

"Disguise pen! Transform me into America's object of desire!"

Smoke filled the room and when it cleared, France grinning like a manic, suddenly frowned.

'What the hell?'

Coughing and sputtering because of the haze, England went over to look into the mirror in the kitchen and then groaned in annoyance.

"Strange. Must be broken. I'll need to see if Wales can fix it."

Because when France looked at England, who in turn looked at his reflection, nothing about him had changed at all.

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_HAHA! Part two up tomorrow. Hope you like the idea! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	2. The Disguise Pen Series Part Two

_Two updates in one day? Sheesh, I'll only update this much if you guys decide to drop a little review! So please do! Enjoy!_

_Two: The Disguise Pen Series: Part Two_

* * *

"He's not answering his phone…probably running around fields pretending to be a sheep with New Zealand."

France rolled his eyes.

"What? It's true; both Wales and New Zealand have a huge thing for sheep. It's actually quite strange."

Right at that moment who should walk in in pink, fluffy pyjamas but one of England's siblings, and he sighed because he just didn't want to see her at that moment in time.

"Well gays," She called, swooping down to give France a kiss, who was sitting at the table and then marched over to the kettle and switched it on. Upon noticing the small, diamanté pen in his hands, Northern Ireland raised her eyebrows in speculation.

"What's that?" She asked, gazing inquisitively at the small object.

"It's a disguise pen apparently, and it makes you transform into anything you want to be but we think it's broken."

Northern Ireland's eyes lit up and bounced over to England.

"Class! I actually remember Wales saying he had one but he would never give it to me; so he gave it to you? Well jell, bai.' She faltered, 'But why do you think it's broken?'

"Because we tried to turn me into, er, _something_ and it didn't work." England said nervously. _She'll have a field day if I tell her what I wanted to disguise myself as!_

Northern Ireland grabbed the pen and announced,

"Well, let's just try it with me, just to see!" She threw her hand into the air, "Disguise Pen! Turn me into a sexy French maid!"

The room filled with smoke and once it cleared England and France's jaws dropped.

Northern Ireland looked down at herself and squealed.

"This is amazeballs! Look at me!"

They were looking. There was the typical pinafore with a pink pocket at the front and the bottom of the skirt was puffed out. Her legs were adorned with fish-net tights and her feet with small black heels. She had a pink and black bonnet in her newly curled hair and looked exactly like she thought she would.

"Ha-ha! At least I won't have to buy a Halloween costume ever again!"

England closed his mouth and frowned.

"That doesn't make any sense. I only tried using it five minutes before you!"

Northern Ireland pondered and then cried, "Well, how about you tell me what you tried to transform into and then I'll try and see if it works. If it does then you try again, if not then you wait until Wales is free so he can fix it."

England narrowed his eyes on his sister.

"You just want to use the pen again don't you?"

Northern Ireland laughed.

"You have me pegged, bro! So, come on, tell me. What was it you wanted to be transformed into?"

England could feel his face getting warm as he heard France snigger beside him.

"Um, well, don't ask questions, I only wanted to do this to piss him off so…I wanted to be America's object of desire."

Northern Ireland looked at him for a moment and then simply shrugged.

"I get it; you were going to change into the very thing he wanted most and then, what? Reject him? Good idea England; a little harsh but I like it."

England only nodded while France was still chortling. Northern Ireland shook her body out before throwing her hand into the air again.

"Okay, here it goes! Disguise Pen, turn me into America's object of desire!"

England and France coughed and sputtered as the smoke cleared and just before it did, Northern Ireland let out a blood-curdling scream. The smoke cleared and the other two nations froze.

"ENGLAND! WHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK EXACTLY LIKE YOU?!"

* * *

_WOOOO! Cliff-hanger! I hope you liked. Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	3. The Disguise Pen Series Part Three

_Hey, hey, hung-over but sh I had a decent excuse; it was Arthur's day yesterday! And today is the centenary of the signing of the Ulster Covenant!_

_Thank you all so much for the reviews!_

_Three: The Disguise Pen Series: Part Three_

* * *

"Oh my God, oh my god, _OH MY FUCKING GOD!_" Northern Ireland screeched, "Transform me back, transform me back!"

Neither England nor France could do anything. They were staring at Northern Ireland like she was some crazed animal at the zoo.

"France! Hello? AIDE MOI!" Northern Ireland yelled and France blinked a few times, still looking at his girlfriend and muttered,

"C'est incroyable! Si ce stylo fonctionne cela voudrait dire que l'Angleterre est l'objet de l'Amérique du désir!" [This is amazing! If this pen works it would mean that England is America's object of desire!]

Northern Ireland, having calmed down a bit but still a tad freaked out, nodded her head at France. Having been with France for a number of decades now, she spoke fluent French.

"Je sais! Mais vous pourriez penser, à cause de la façon dont l'Amérique agit vers l'Angleterre, il le déteste. Je ne comprends pas cela du tout! Oh Dieu, que si l'Amérique découvre que nous savons? Plus précisément, quelle est la pensée en Angleterre?" [I know! But you might think, because of the way America acts towards England, he hates him. I don't understand this at all! Oh God, that if America discovers what we know? What's more, what does England think?'

England snapped out of his frozen state when he realised both nations were staring at him.

"So? What do you think bro?"

England stared at Northern Ireland for a moment and then growled.

"That bastard, Wales! He's obviously messed with this thing!" He grabbed the pen from Northern Ireland while France rolled his eyes.

"Don't be stupid Angleterre. The pen worked for everything else. And of course it wouldn't work on you and change you into America's object of desire if you _are _America's object of desire." He muttered, winking at his friend.

England faltered and his expression became unreadable.

"Don't be preposterous France, why would America ever li-"

"Hey guys! What's up?"

England's blood ran cold as America sauntered into the kitchen with a broad smile on his face. When he saw the two England's and France, he promptly slapped his face and then looked again.

"Um, what the hell is going on?"

Northern Ireland gave England and France a mischievous smirk before turning to America. Putting on the best English accent she could, she drawled, "Yes, hello America. Aren't you going to say hello to France and _Scotland?"_

England gave a squawk of indignation, "I am _not_ Scot-"

France threw a hand over England mouth and Northern Ireland grinned nervously at America. America looked worriedly at France and England.

"Um hey France. Uh, are you _sure_ that's Scotland? He looks very like you England!"

"Hahahaa! How silly America!" Northern Ireland chuckled, 'He's my brother so of course he looks like me; you know all we Kirkland's look near enough the same. Except that totally babed-out, awesome and completely hilarious sister of mine.' Northern Ireland heard a muffled growl behind her and began eyeing up the man opposite her.

"Why do you care anyway? Are you obsessed with me or something?"

America raised his eyebrows at Northern Ireland and snorted.

"Are you _drunk?_"

"Nope. I'm completely serious. You like me America. I know you do. Just admit it! You want to hug me and kiss me and push me up against a wall and-"

At that moment, England broke free from France's grasp and shoving the pen into Northern Ireland's hand, he exclaimed, "Disguise Pen! Turn Emily back into her normal form!" _Please work! Please work! Please work!_

The smoke that surrounded the kitchen cleared once more and Northern Ireland appeared where the 'other' England was, looking sulkily at her brother.

"Not cool England. Just when I was going to get him to admit it!" She whined and England gave her his best disapproving glare.

"I'm sorry dudes. I'm like, totally confused. Why was Northern Ireland England a few seconds ago and asking me if loved her?"

England opened his mouth to speak but Northern Ireland got in before him.

"It's a disguise pen that changes you into anything you want to be. England wanted to get back at you for being an asshole to him so he asked it to change him into your object of desire and then reject you when you like fell in love with him or something."

Northern Ireland could practically hear the steam shooting out of England's ears.

"Now just hold on one second Northern-"

"But when he tried it, it didn't change him into anything so we tried it on me and I was turned into my brother. It was then we realised England couldn't change into your object of desire because he already _is _anyway."

She grinned at America while he had suddenly become quite pale, "So, really, you may as well ask him out now and get it over and done with. It's funny; you acting like you hate him just so he wouldn't find out. America, you should know that keeping secrets of the Kirkland's is an extremely hard thing to do."

Silence filled the room. Green eyes locked on blue. England titled his head to one side in confusion.

"America?"

And that was all it took. Striding past Northern Ireland, America grabbed the Brit by the shirt and crashed his lips down on England's.

Both France and Northern Ireland smirked and quietly tip-toed out into the hallway.

"Aw, I love happy endings!" Northern Ireland smiled while her boyfriend rolled his eyes.

"This has been the strangest day _ever. _I don't know why I put up you all."

Northern Ireland turned to France, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Well here's one reason why you put up with _me_; wanna go and start kissing on England's bed so that when he comes stumbling into his room with America in a few minutes, he'll go ballistic?"

France laughed and immediately grabbed his girlfriend's hand, pulling her towards the stairs.

"You read my mind ma Cheri."

* * *

_Hope you liked that mini-fic! Cheers everyone, LucyMoon1992 x_


	4. Insanity

_Hey, hey! Nothing much to say only thanks to those who have reviewed and keep them coming please! Enjoy!_

_Four: Insanity_

* * *

"What the _hell _is wrong with me?" America groaned in a heavy sigh, raking fidgety fingers through his blonde locks. Twin orbs of light blue flickered to and fro, searching out the familiar streak of blonde and green as one Arthur Kirkland raced to his sister's house.

Every morning, England would get up, get dressed and then without realising it, was late like clockwork to meet with his sister and their two brothers. Not that she minded exactly because she was usually sleeping or doing something or er, _someone _else. What got America's mind reeling was the speed that England would _fly _at down the streets at, to get to Northern Ireland's house. It was incredible.

America shook his head at the thought. "How on earth does he do it? If all the demons of hell were on his tail, I bet he'd still be able to outrun them... Crap, and now I'm talking aloud. First sign of madness..."

Madness indeed.

Why else would he be staked out on this corner? Why else would he have memorized the exact trajectory England's body took, and placed himself directly in the line of fire; the path of collision?

There was no other plausible explanation other than a very premature onset of insanity.

_Soon, the men in white coats will be coming to my door, for God's sake!_

But of course, psychiatrists might beg to differ...they like to do that. To any individual but Alfred Jones himself, the intention was obvious; the motive, clear. Diagnosis would've been swift, had the fellow decided his affliction necessitated medical insight: America was suffering from a textbook case of love-sickness. You all know the symptoms: dizzy, weak knees. Heart palpitations. Obsession.

And a certain annoying habit of insulting your crush the second his handsome and perfect visage popped into view. Or maybe that's just America.

_Damn, damn, damn! I am mad!_

Well... we'll have to concede on that point. Really, it was almost pathetic the lengths to which America went just to be in contact with the Brit, and he knew it. Acutely, _achingly_ aware of it, more like.

And so... here he was, infatuated fool lurking in the shadows of a building, in Belfast City Centre trying to be inconspicuous so as to lay the blame on England. Because what the heck else would spurt from his mouth if not a gibe about his lack of awareness to things around him? "I'm not a stalker, old man..._ really_, I'm not! If... if you ignore the fact that I seem to position myself so you'll crash into me, just so I can feel your warm body against mine for one perfect, infinitesimal second... then no, I'm not a stalker. I'm not obsessed about you. I don't have trouble falling asleep because I'm so anxious to hear your voice, even if it's in anger! Yep, I'm just as s-a-n-e as can be!"

_Again. I'm talking aloud again! England, you really are going to be the death of me._

It was actually pretty humorous if America stopped and thought about it. This was the _sixth _time in a week and a half and England had 'by mistake' crashed into America while America insulted him and told him he was such an idiot for not looking where he was going. Of course an argument had ensued after every one of these 'accidental meetings' and America had cherished each one of them.

Giving a groan of annoyance, America peeked out onto Donegal Street for any sign of England. _This is later than usual! Where was he?_

"What _are _you doing?"

America whirled around and squinted into the darkness of the alleyway. But he knew who it was, even when they revealed themselves. It was accent he was hearing all morning from passers-by.

Northern Ireland walked slowly into the light of dreary morning fog and raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement on her features. Still dressed in her pyjamas with just a union-jack hoodie over the top, the young nation eyed up her friend sceptically.

"Northern Ireland! Fancy meeting you here!" America squeaked, cursing his voice for going so high.

"Yes. Fancy meeting me in my own capital." She drawled sarcastically, "Strange though, why _you _would be so far away from home this early in the morning, hm?"

America chuckled nervously but he froze as his ears suddenly perked up and he knew immediately that _he _was approaching.

"I'm really sorry Northern Ireland but I don't have time to-"

"Instead of being a creepy stalker and crashing into my brother every morning, how about asking him out like a normal person?"

America gaped at his obsession's sister.

"You know-?"

Northern Ireland rolled her eyes, "Yes. And so does he."

And without warning, she jumped forward and pushed him onto on the street, colliding with someone in the process.

"Dear Lord, I'm sorry, I didn't see you th-Oh. It's _you._"

America glared into the alleyway but Northern Ireland was gone. He didn't really care though. It was these few blissful seconds each morning that he cherished. To hold England close to his body because of course no matter how fast England was running, he could never actually mow America down; the hero was way too strong. So here he was, holding him in his arms, heart beating faster than-

"Do you mind letting go of me, you fool?"

America shot away from the Brit like he'd been burnt. England pursed his lips at the American and America had to restrain himself for not jumping on him there and then.

"You know, this is getting a bit ridiculous but it's not like I have the time to stand here and ask you why the hell you're in Belfast and have been for the past week and a half." England snapped, swatting at his dark, blue suit, trying to get some creases out.

"Um, I'm sightseeing." America chirped, throwing a hand through his hair.

"Yes, because it's not like you haven't seen all this a hundred times before. And strange that you seem to be_ sightseeing_ the same place every morning." England muttered, raising his eyebrows at blonde-haired nation.

America tried and failed to form a coherent sentence.

"Goodness America and I thought maybe today you might have had to courage to ask me out, with Emily telling you so and everything." He made a slight tsking sound and America's jaw dropped, "Well, I must be off, places to go, people to see." He smiled smugly at the gaping American and said, "Maybe tomorrow, hm?"

And with that, he was gone, flying down the high-street before turning left and out of sight.

America stood in the middle of the street, flabbergasted. Then suddenly remembering what England had said, smiled awkwardly before turning in the direction of his hotel.

_Ok then. Tomorrow it is._

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_Hope you liked! Please review! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	5. Hope

_Hey guys! Hope you liked the last chapter!_

_But NOW. I have decided to make everyone cry today. I'm warning you now: MAJOR ANGST. And you'll all hate Northern Ireland by the end of this. Or maybe you won't. I don't care either way. _

_So enjoy…if you can._

_Five: Hope._

* * *

One day you stop hoping.

It sounds weird but it's the honest truth. You wake to the sunlight blaring down on you, daring you to open your eyes. You shield your face from its warm presence and even though it should make you feel happy, you feel just about anything _but _happiness. You feel uncomfortable and uneasy.

Scared about what today will bring.

And the day after that.

Because it could bring anything.

Anything, but _hope_.

You stretch as you clamber out of bed, your joints and muscles aching from yet another restless sleep. You quickly get into the shower and let the hot water pelt at your skin and again, this makes you uncomfortable so you get out and put on some clothes.

You choose your clothing without a second thought. _What's the point? Everything and everyone is so materialistic, you could laugh. But you don't. Because you, emotionally and physically, cannot._

You mentally think of the things you have to do today apart from the most glaringly obvious because you see that today on the calendar has a large, red circle around it and you have to wretch your eyes away from the thing.

Firstly you must give back that book of recipes you borrowed from France and you _know _you really ought to have given it back by now but something is stopping you.

You have to collect that package from the post office because it was too big to fit through the letter-box and you weren't in at the time of deliverance. And you have to buy a new tie because you think you don't have enough of them and Spain always has such nice ones.

_Such trivial things…why do you waste your time?_

But as for the recipe book…

You can pretend you lost it. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter.

But it does.

The truth is, in that little book is hidden a recipe for a chocolate cake filled with hazelnuts and whipped cream and that is – _and that is_; you breath in here deeply, hold it in and realise, _here he comes again_ – you exhale; that is _his_ favourite cake.

Suddenly the matter seems hilarious to you. Why do you know these things? Why? And for whom?

You don't understand.

You hear them as you walk down the stairs. Your brothers. Shouting loudly at each other and breaking things. You sigh deeply and hang your head.

As you walk down the hall, you're greeted by an extremely large sign dangling from the banisters and you stumble back at the words that are sprawled across it. Beside it is a tall ladder and standing on that ladder, is quite frankly, the last person you want to see right now.

However, when she notices you, her youthful face lights up in pure enchantment and she scrambles down the ladder, bounding towards you, encasing you in a hug. You stiffen but she doesn't seem to notice as she gushes about how thankful she is that _they _can have the party here. You smile, it doesn't reach your eyes; it never does anymore. Fortunately she is too happy to even notice the carnage you emotionally feel right now.

_Doesn't she even know? Doesn't she even realise?_

Probably not. It's been 10 years and you feel your pulse quicken- _10 years exactly _so you can only assume she is clueless or just blinded by happiness. Perhaps both.

She politely asks you to get up on the ladder and try and straighten the banner because it's just not right yet and _everything _has to be right for her. _Everything. _

You say yes; _you always do, _and straighten it for her. You'll do anything, _anything, _you just have to get away from her. She grins and thanks you, her small frame almost shaking with joy. You don't hate her. You could never hate her. If anything you blame yourself for what happened_. _You know she is to blame too but you can't hate her. Maybe it's because you love her too much. You don't know.

But you regret it.

Oh, do you regret it.

All the same, you tried to push the blame on her. _Completely_ on her. Because she was the most obvious target. The one that ruined absolutely everything and left your life in ruins. She didn't know though; she even thought you were _proud _of her and the notion is so hysterical, you could laugh. But again, you cannot.

You finally came to terms with the fact that she isn't in the wrong. Not totally. _What was so wrong with being love? She didn't know and you weren't going to crush her dreams and tell her. You wanted her to be happy._

You wanted _your sister _to be happy.

"You better get changed into something better than that! The guests are arriving in an hour and you've spent all this time sleeping!" She winks at you and you immediately fall into the 'Acting Arthur', your _alter ego_ that you have been perfecting for the last ten years.

"I could say the same to you." You reply, putting as much warmth and cheekiness into your sentence as you can possibly muster. It practically makes you sick to the stomach to put on this stupid charade.

She laughs and glances down at her dirty tank-top and worn out tracky-bottoms.

"What, you don't like my outfit?" She raises an eyebrow and laughs again, "Don't worry, just need to check some more things and then I'll go upstairs and get ready. You should do the same!"

"Hm, yes, in a minute," You call out heading towards the kitchen; towards your brothers, "I want to check Allistor and Dylan haven't smashed anything but I won't cross my fingers." You say this dryly and you mean it. Your brothers are forever breaking items in your house.

You hear her tinkling laugh as she climbs the stairs.

"They had already broken three plates when I went in and that was two hours ago."

You groan and rub your temples, slowly.

"Oh and England? He'll be round in 10 so let him in, will you?"

Your stomach lurches.

"_Like hell." You think indignantly. _

"Of course, no problem." You shout back instead, wanting to crawl into a hole for the rest of the day, _heck, _the rest of your existence and wallow in your misery. But you don't. Because you are the nation of England and you do what is right. No matter how you feel.

Upon entering the kitchen, your eyes widen in surprise as rows of dishes of food have been laid out of your shiny countertops. Everything is perfectly clean and looking like a new penny. You squint to your right and see your brothers, both sitting at the table, smoking and reading the newspaper, already dressed for tonight festivities. They both look up and nod.

"Morning, or should I say _evening._" Scotland barks out, not looking at you as he casually dubs out his cigarette and immediately lights another one.

"Your sister said you broke some plates." You say suspiciously. Wales looks up and grins.

"We did. But we cleaned it up so you wouldn't get mad."

Scotland groans and smacks Wales around the head before turning and smiling sweetly at his other brother.

"Never mind that! Look at all this great food!"

You throw a glance at the food and nod. _So what? Does it matter? Not to you, it doesn't._

However your curiosity gets the better of you and you notice that the food is actually edible looking. And then you frown. Because there are many things that the Kirkland's are good at. But cooking is not one of them. Even you can admit that.

You whirl around to face your brothers and you scowl.

"This food looks good. _Too _good! Alright, confess! Who _actually_ made it?"

"Why, moi of course, mon Cher." A seductive voice drawls in your ear and you yelp, jumping back. Your brothers and your best friend start to laugh.

"Dammit France! I told you to stop doing that!" You growl, but can't help but feel almost glad to see him.

Because even though you tried to shut yourself off from the world, he was there for you when no one else was. He let you cry on his shoulder, let you have your violent fits of rage and trash the whole house, let you collapse and break down right in front of him and he has never said a word. Nothing but advice and good friendship. You know, though you'll never admit it, that he is the only reason you are still alive today. And you are thankful for that.

Apart from France the only other people who knew were your brothers. And you're thankful that they _don't_ want to talk about it. _You know they want you to be happy, but also know that what you want is impossible._

"Well, what do you think?"

You don't know whether France is talking about what he's wearing or the food that he made so you just nod your head.

"Good job. Well done." You then look at him curiously, "How did you get in?"

"Well I have been here all this morning and afternoon preparing for tonight but I needed to run home and get a shower and get changed. So I came in through the front door."

You nod again and looking at the food, you suddenly rush upstairs and get the one object you have for so long kept for some stupid reason.

When you return downstairs, the three men are chatting happily until you thrust the object out in front of France – the little recipe book.

The room is at once covered in silence; Scotland coughs and looks away; Wales's usual cheery smile is replaced with a look of empathy and France cannot hide the sad look from his eyes as his fingers grasp the little book taking it away from your trembling ones.

"Angleterre..." he says, quietly and painfully, and for the second time that day you sigh deeply, hanging your head.

"It doesn't matter anymore", you say, but what you think is this: _yes, yes it does, just not to the ones it should._ France nods and puts the book away in a hurry, into his satchel and for the next fifteen minutes his eyes avoid meeting yours.

Minutes pass. The conversation jumps from one theme onto the next but you barely listen to it. You kind of hate the feeling that everyone is just trying to keep talking so they won't have to say anything. Because today _of all days _would be the worst time for you to slip into your depression mode.

France announces with such joy that he has made another successful recipe for a new cake, seconds later biting his lip and waiting for your reaction; he watches you under his eyebrows.

You swallow hard, but it stops somewhere half way down – still you force that happy sound out of your mouth and through your lips: 'God, I'd rather kill myself before eating any of your food!' and everything is all right in the kitchen again.

Everything is all right until moments later when the hairs on your neck suddenly stand like pricks in the air, and cold fingers pass over your back – you don't even have to turn around to know who just came in.

The other nations don't even realise what is happening until he is standing beside you all – calm, so calm – and _so gorgeous_ that it seems your lungs forgot how to breathe; actually you wouldn't be surprised if they ever knew how to at all.

"Evening all!" He announces and his voice alone makes you tremble, "Looking forward to tonight?"

Your brothers and best friend say nothing, you know they're looking at you warily, you've went pale as snow and your breaths are coming up as short, raspy noises. You freeze as he notices the state you're in.

"England? You okay?" He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything goes _wack, bam! _Right into you and you come alive. You jump away from him and closer to France, grabbing his arm and narrowing your eyes on the fair-haired man in front of you.

"I'm fine." You reply, "Don't _touch _me. You needn't concern yourself with me, _America." _ You spit with little strength behind the words, but your lungs still saying his name is so hard and you feel kind of proud that you said it without stammering.

He opens his mouth to say something but he hesitates and looks at you with those perfect blue eyes and decides not to say anything and simply shrugs.

You know _exactly _what he was going to say. '_There used to be a time when I concerned myself with you. And vice versa.' _

You try and stop yourself from remembering but it's so hard to supress the memories of a time when you were so happy; it seems like a different lifetime, a different world. Because all you do is regret. Regret what happened for the rest of your existence.

The happy memory when you found him and he became your little brother and how your heart never felt such a powerful emotion before and all you wanted to do was stay with him forever.

The painful memory when he left you, only because he wanted his freedom and you understood that.

The victorious memory, you rushed at each other and embraced when you won the first world war, breaking apart in seconds, feeling so embarrassed but so _delighted_ you could have scream it from the rooftops.

The rapturous memories when he pressed his lips to yours in Potsdam in front of everyone and your bosses just smiled and Churchill even shouted ''Each time I must choose between you and Roosevelt,' he yelled at General Charles de Gaulle, leader of the Free French, in 1945, 'I shall choose Roosevelt.'

You had given France a slap on the back and laughed. You had never felt so happy in your whole life.

But unfortunately you remember what happens after that.

How you had to introduce your sister to everyone at Potsdam, because she was so amazing to you in the war.

You remember starting to see less and less of America and you had no idea why.

You remember him missing dinner dates, always turning up at meetings late and never apologising once for any of it.

You remember him saying, 'I love you' to you and you crack because no. No he didn't.

You scream at him that you know what he has been doing, the whole damn world has known for years. You screech at him and trash the living room, breaking down at his feet in sobs and he leans over to comfort you and hiss at him, clawing at him to stay away, _shrieking _at him to stay away because no. You do not want _his pity_. The thing you do want has been lost to you since that day at Potsdam.

You rise to your feet and hurl abuse at him. You ask him if the only reason he stayed with you was because he felt sorry for you and he denies it, desperately trying to calm you down but no. You won't give up that easy. You ask him the same question again and again to which he answers no.

You finally say that if he doesn't admit that he only stayed with you out of pity that you will do what he should have done years ago and finish their doomed relationship.

You remember how his eyes widen and his lips tremble, moisture springing to his eyes.

You remember how he starts to yell, 'no' over and over again and that for what he had to you; he is so, so sorry and he'll stop it right now, he'll end it _right now _but as long as you don't say _that. _You are shocked and confused by his actions by your mind has gone way past insanity. It has reached new and terrifying heights.

"Say it." You whisper, green eyes locked on blue. He sobs.

"N-no." He whispers back, choking on air. You have never seen he like this. So sad. So vulnerable. "I love you."

You snarl at him.

"No. You don't."

His eyes widen as you part your lips.

"We're through."

You're snapped out of your thoughts by his voice. His perfect voice.

"Sheesh, England, I was only asking." He frowns at you, some indescribable emotion etched across his face. He notices you staring and he looks away. "Look I've got to make a call. Be right back." He turns away – slowly, oh so slowly into the hallway and takes out his phone. Something inside of you knots even tighter, but your lungs suddenly decide to function and you breathe in so hard and so deep that your fingers grasping France's arm turn completely white.

Scotland carefully chucks his cigarette into the bin and places a hand tentatively on your own.

"England, it's all right." When you raise your eyes, they are already blurry from the tears, but you're not quite sure if it's because you have your brothers and best friend there with you or because he's standing so close yet he is so very, very far away from you. And no_- it's not all right._

You feel abandoned and safe and loved at once, and as if you're losing your mind because you can't possibly feel such two opposing emotions at the same time.

You turn your head toward the hallway, and you see that Northern Ireland has finally come down the stairs, waiting on him to hang up and she turns and waves at you but America doesn't even blink, doesn't even breathe, doesn't even shrug – doesn't even turn around. A piece of your heart shrivels up and turns into ashes.

You don't even hope anymore. That is – you do – of course you do, because that is what makes you simply you – the hope in a better tomorrow, hope that you will be given new chances and hope – all the hope you have in him. Hope that he will remember all the good instead of the bad. That the next time he will come to your house and you will have to make food for him and he will hug you or kiss you – he will be in love with you again.

You dare to hope. Just not _hope-hope_, not anymore. It isn't still your very first thought of the morning or your last thought of the night. No.

But life moves on.

Life goes on, whether you like it or not.

Doesn't it?

But…

You notice that Canada has arrived and he runs to France and kisses him.

Your eyes move from them onto France's satchel and that little book inside of it and suddenly you cannot hold it in anymore, the knot inside of you is too big and too strong and sometimes you are not so big and so strong as you may seem and your brothers are watching you like two mothers, worried to death for their child and you just cannot hold it in anymore..

He is not even aware of it. He doesn't know. He doesn't love you anymore.

Your body curls inwards, closer to one of the countertops until your head rests on the clean surface and your shoulders start to shake. Tears start all by themselves, they flow down your cheeks sadly and you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from screaming – it hurts too much. It just hurts so much, and you wonder when it all will start turning for the better because you can't breathe and you must – _you simply must be dreaming all this..._

You feel a tap on your shoulder and you slowly turn round to face your sister and America.

"England?" Northern Ireland asks alarmed, "What's wrong?"

You can't, you just can't deal with this. You need to get away.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel well." You whisper and she looks at you concerned. America has the same look on his face and your eyes threaten to overflow with tears again.

"I might just skip the celebrations and go to bed," You let out a sob as you push past them and say, "Happy 10th anniversary. Congratulations.'

Where Northern Ireland is standing you should be and you can't bear it as you sprint out into the hallway and fall to your knees. You hear him saying your name and also an angry, "Don't go near him." from France and you try to choke back another sob.

Almost immediately three pairs of hands sneak their away around you somehow, forming a protective nest of safety, warmth and love.

The sun that woke you up is gone – long gone, the clouds outside are of darker colour now and the rain is about to fall. Autumn is turning into winter, and it seems to you, you might just be mimicking it. The leaves are falling outside, constantly, constantly, and as your shoulders shake uncontrollably, the tears drip-drop on the floor and you can hear the wind howling outside; it's so very strong and you are so very weak right now.

Still, it might sound weird, but it's the honest truth – you...

_You hope._

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…_That was so sad. I nearly cried myself! So __**please review **__this chapter even if you haven't reviewed before because I really want to know what people think. Thanks very much guys, LucyMoon1992._


	6. If you could trade lives with someone

_Hey guys! Yeah, chuck some fruit at me, I deserve it :/ But here's the one next so shush up and enjoy it!_

_Thanks for the reviews!_

_Six: If you could trade lives with someone…_

* * *

It was one of those odd nights at England's house when everyone was outrageously drunk. They had come around to have just a _few drinks_ and as usual ended up with all of them getting total and completely _wankered._

England, being the host, and a true gentleman, wasn't drinking, _for once. _He watched, a flicker of amusement on his face as France stood up suddenly from his seat at the large dining table and declared, "Let's play that game, you know, if you could trade lives with someone, who would it be and why!"

The drunken mob which consisted of Russia, China, Japan, England's siblings and America agreed, a few of them raising their glasses to France.

The Frenchman sat back down and said, "I'll go first. I would trade lives with England."

England and the rest of the table looked up at the drunken Frenchman and laughed.

"Me? You hate me!" England said, unbelievingly. France smiled knowingly.

"I don't hate you, you just piss me off. And I wouldn't trade lives with you for any other reason than the fact that I would be closer to Northern Ireland geographically."

He turned and winked at Northern Ireland who giggled and grinned back at him.

"Enough Frog. Don't even _think_ about it…" England warned, eyes narrowing at France's mischievous smirk at Northern Ireland.

In swift succession, each nation stood and said who and why they wanted to be someone else, some funny, some romantic, some slightly creepy (Russia).

Last to stand was the biggest nation of them all, America.

England rested back in his chair and stared intently at the American. _I wonder who he'd want to be…_

America tilted his head to the side in deliberation and then nodded, smiling to himself.

"This outta be good…" France said to Northern Ireland but Northern Ireland didn't say anything to France and instead turned her head to England and smirked. He frowned. _What the hell is she smiling at me like that for?_

America coughed slightly to get everyone's attention.

"If I could trade lives with anyone in the world it would be…" Everyone leaned forward in their chairs in anticipation, "no one."

"_What?"_ They all chorused except for Northern Ireland, who simply smiled and winked at England. England was even more confused.

America grinned.

"I wouldn't switch lives with anyone. I've could everything I could ever need. Money, power, popularity. And, especially, the most important thing."

England frown dissolved into a blush as America walked over to him and kissed him lightly on lips.

"I've got love."

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_Awwww! Hope you liked and review please! LucyMoon1992 x _


	7. Change me back!

_Hey, hey! I've been really busy lately so just updating when I can….or when I get reviews ;) HINT, HINT. Anyway onto the next chapter, enjoy!_

_Seven: Change me back!_

* * *

"ENGLAND! YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN!"

England glanced up at the doorway from his cosy position by the fire and his jaw dropped. Standing at the door was quite plainly America. And America was quite plainly _a girl._

He, or rather she, stormed up to him and placed his hands on his hips, glaring down at him while England continued to gawk.

"Why are you dressed like _that?" _England questioned, eyeing his friend up and down, indicating to the denim shorts and checker-shirt tied at the front to show a washboard stomach.

America gave a squawk of embarrassment as he noticed England was ogling him.

"Hey, cut that out you pervert!" He scowled down at the man who had temporarily stopped perving and was looking up at America's flushed face. "Now change me back!"

England stood up so that he was inches from America's face and said calmly, "Sorry America, but I wasn't the one who did this."

America scoffed and stamped his foot, "Yeah right. Oh look. A flying pig! Seriously England, please change me back."

"America, I'm telling you the honest truth, I didn't change you into a girl. Well not this time anyway. I assume that's why you have those clothes on?" England peered down and received a quick slap to the face.

"Dude, my eyes are up here." America muttered, "And yeah, I was sick of you cursing me and changing me into a chick all the time so I needed clothes."

"And you decided on _these _ones?" England said in exasperation.

"If you got it, flaunt it!" America replied shrugging. England rolled his eyes as he moved past America.

"Indeed." He said impassively, "Well, I'm sorry America but unless you can find the person who put this spell on you then you're just going to have to wait until the effects wear off or the person who did it un-curses you."

England tilted his head to the side as he analysed the American before him. He did look incredibly adorable when he stood there; face flushed a lovely shade of pink, fidgeting on the spot under England's gaze. In saying that America always looked cute when he was embarrassed, male or female. England grinned. _Let's make him even more mortified. _

Crossing over the living room in two long strides, England slung an arm around America's waist and pulled him close, earning a squeal from the nation.

"What are you-"

His sentence was cut off by a pair of warm, soft lips descending onto his own. There and then, America's quarrels about being a girl died and he just let himself enjoy being kissed senselessly by the blonde-haired Brit.

Outside England's manor, two men stood holding binoculars and tearing their gazes away from their fixed point in England's living room, they high-fived each other.

"That worked out better than expected!" Wales chortled, not quite believing what he just saw.

"Yeah, that was brilliant! Hungary and Japan was going to be so amazed!" Scotland cried, extremely excited.

"Why?"

"Because my dear brother, we just caught the whole thing on England's CCTV cameras, which I have wired to my house. All I have to do is copy them to a DVD and voilà; we have real yaoi action set up, costing only £100 a piece!"

Wales and Scotland looked at each other knowingly but not particularly caring even though they knew that the moment their brother would find out, they would be running, screaming at the top of their lungs, "WE ONLY DO THESE THINGS BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU!"

Oh well.

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_Hehe! Hope you enjoyed that funny wee chapter! Köszönjük! LucyMoon1992 x_


	8. Diary Confessions

_Hey, hey! Going to Funderland tonight with my flatmates; so excited! Anyway, thanks to everyone that reviewed! _

_Eight: Diary Confessions_

* * *

Oh dear God, someone kill me _now._

The tapping of his foot was getting steadily louder and I wanted to tell him to _shut up the fuck up _but I couldn't. The words were stuck in my throat and I couldn't even look up. Not only because he was looking at me but the whole world was. Literally.

I idly wondered if now would be a good time to lunge at the frog. This _was _his fault after all. This was the last time I ever let him stay at house when he gets drunk in London…

"England." The voice is stern and I feel my face heating up even more because I know _he _is also embarrassed.

I dare to raise my eyes, not at him but to the conference room behind us. And there is France, standing beside my sister, both trying their hardest not to burst into laughter. My eyes narrow on them and I take at a step forward.

"There's no point trying to blame this on France. You shouldn't let him sleep in your bed." America drawls out. This time his voice is sarcastic, almost _jealous? _I can't think of anything to say and so splutter at him.

"He was _not _sleeping in my bed! He was in the spare room and snuck in, in the middle of the night."

America raises his eyebrows.

"No, I mean, I was sleeping! Nothing happened! He came in, searched through all my possessions like some cat-burglar and then stole _that."_

I shakily point at the object of my intense embarrassment, resting in America's hands.

America hesitates, staring at me for a long moment and I feel like the world has just disappeared and there is only him and I. America and England. _Together. _

And then he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

"I think we should read a little extract _out loud, _wouldn't you agree,' turning on his heel, he glances at my backstabber of a best friend, 'France?"

My face has obviously turned to one of upmost horror because my brother stands up from his position at the far back of the room, where the United Kingdom usually gather, and he coughs to get everyone's attention.

"I don't really think that's very fair America; it's kinda cruel."

I honestly think that is the nicest thing Scotland has ever said on my behalf and I swell with pride.

"Well you wouldn't be saying that if you knew some of the stuff he wrote about _you_ in here."

My gaze shifts back to America in outrage.

"That's a goddamn lie, you bastard! I never write anything bad about my siblings in there."

America simply opens the book and turns a few pages and I behold that his eyes actually _gleam_ and I shiver.

I don't _think_ I ever wrote anything bad about Scotland…or anyone in my family for that matter-

"Dear Diary, today Scotland went over to Ireland's house and told me that he likes her better than me. Well, that's fine; he can go live with her. Cos when he comes crawling back on his knees, just like Ireland will, I think I might just kick him in the face and turn away."

I feel my jaw drop at the sentence. I only vaguely remember that diary entry because I woke up the next morning after writing it, with a splitting hangover. I was completely off my face when I wrote that!

I quickly look to Scotland, whose entire face had darkened and he is glowering at me ferociously.

"Fuck you England."

And he sits down, turning away from me in disgust.

I glare at my former charge and wonder why I spent my time writing down my feelings in that diary if he was just going to laugh in my face. My embarrassment is subsided now by another emotion; a swift stab in my chest tells me I feel hurt by this revelation that America may not feel for me as I do for him. And why should he? After everything that has happened between the two of us, I would expect nothing more than hostile civility.

I put my thoughts on a backburner as I look to my sister for aid and she just stares back at me, like she hardly sees me. She looks poised to articulate something but then decides against it and snaps her mouth shut while looking away. _Traitor…_

Seeing that Scotland is furious with me, Wales is too busy sleeping and Northern Ireland is acting like she doesn't know who I am, America grins triumphantly before turning to page one of my diary and I bite back a scream. How? How can he be so ridiculously cruel? Laughing at my feels?

"Now, where we were we? Ah, yes, _ahem_." He clears his throat and the room silences immediately, becoming so quiet I wonder if everyone can hear my heart hammering through my chest, "Dear Diary, something terrible has happened. It's the worst thing imaginable. I have fallen in love. In love! Me! And do you know who with? God, I cannot believe it myself but it is A-"

"Please. _Don't._"

I don't even realise it was I who actually spoke until I see everyone looking at me. I can feel my face is twisted in a bad attempt to stop myself from crying like some child.

America is looking at me with the weirdest expression and a moment later, his face hardens and he drops the diary on the ground and bounds out of the room, barking out some sentence about 'break' and 'meet back here in two hours'. No one questions it and everyone gets up and leaves quickly, muttering about what had just happened.

I bend down to pick up the diary and I frown. What the hell was that all about? I shrug. At least he didn't say anything. And for that, I am grateful.

Northern Ireland approaches me and I sigh and raise my hand.

"Please Emily, not now."

She looks at me like she did before but this time with the faintest of smiles gracing her features.

"I thought you might like to have a wee look at this."

She hands me a book with stars and stripes plastered across the cover and immediately I recognise the untidy scrawl written on the front of it. I gaze up at my sister in disbelief.

"Is this-?"

"Page 12."

I frown but open it unsteadily and turn to page 12 and notice that it's dated only two days ago.

"Dear Diary. France visited me again today. He says he can't think of anymore ideas to get England to realise that I like him. I mean geez, what does it take to win a guy over? I'm freakin' America, for cryin' out loud! I've tried everything; chocolates, flowers, dinner, picnics and he _still _doesn't get it! I'm going out of my mind here! I think that-

Holy. Crap. Northern Ireland just rang and she says that England has a diary too! If I can get my hands on it, I'll be able to find out exactly what he likes and then he'll finally understand. It's perfect! France just said he's going to go over tomorrow and pretend to be really drunk and then snatch the book when England's asleep! Wish me luck!"

I close the diary, dumbstruck. I'm only half aware of the fact that my sister kinda screwed me over again but she meant well; she always does.

"Northern Ireland, I-"

She cuts across me, giving me a small push towards the door.

"What are you standing around here, talking to me for? Go get 'im, tiger."

She winks and me and with a grin at her, I turn on my heel and sprint from the conference room, off to find the American who, amazingly, loves me back.

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_D'awwwww! Hope you liked, please review! Thanks LucyMoon1992 x_


	9. Dinner with the Family

_Hey everyone! No one reviewed the last chapter- SOB. Please try and drop a wee review, even if it isn't much, I would love to hear all your feedback! Enjoy today's chapter!_

_Nine: Dinner with the Family._

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America was nervous. Extremely so.

Because he was about to have dinner with the United Kingdom Four. Aka, England's brothers and sister.

He sat at England's kitchen table; bourbon in one hand and the other tightened into a fist. England was running around said kitchen, like lunatic, getting everything ready. He quickly glanced at America and frowned.

"Are you alright?"

America's eyes darkened.

"If I had known I would have to go through something like _this, _I would have never started dating you."

"Ouch." England said, looking hurt, "This wasn't my idea America. _They _wanted to make sure you were good enough for me."

"That is why this is completely stupid! I'm friends with every one of them! They know what I'm like already and they know that I treat you well." He set his drink down and crossed his arms, huffing, "This is totally unnecessary."

England simply shrugged.

"Hey, you wanted to date me. And when you date a Kirkland…well then there's three other nations you have to take into account."

At that exact moment, the kitchen-back-door burst open and in sauntered in the other three countries of the United Kingdom.

Scotland, dressed in a simple but elegant blue suit, had a cigarette in his right hand and gave England a nod, before briskly walking over to his drinks cabinet and getting a whiskey.

Wales bounced forward, looking happy, as usual, and beamed at England.

"Hey bro!" He called before turning to America, "America! What's up? I'm glad we could all have dinner today together, I can't wait!" He then walked over to America and leaned closer to him.

"Just watch yourself ok? You make one single little mistake, or make any notion to which we would think you could harm and hurt England in _any _way, we will destroy you, got it?"

America looked up, horrified by this evil Wales, who was smiling at him innocently. America, words caught in his throat, simply nodded. Wales grinned.

"Great, well I'm sure we'll talk at dinner!" and then bounced away over to Scotland.

America sighed but then immediately thought, '_Oh God, I've forgotten about the worst of them all.'_

He shifted his gaze uneasily towards the door and groaned.

Northern Ireland (who had dragged her boyfriend with her) was currently kissing the life out France, ignoring England's desperate cries of disgust and annoyance.

Finally tearing herself away from France she gave England a little sultry wave and then flung her head around in America's direction. She whispered a few words to France who then wandered over to annoy England and Northern Ireland made her way over to America.

Ignoring all other chairs at the table, she threw her arms around America's neck and crossed her long legs over his.

"Bonjour America. Ca va?"

"Hey Northern Ireland. Well, I'd be a lot better if you'd get off me." He frowned at her and she chuckled lightly.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable but this is all part of the plan. See, I know Wales has already given you the death threat and Scotland has completely ignored you. But I've got the best plan ever. What I'm going to do is see just how much you love England. I'm going to do _whatever _I can to get you to sleep with me."

America's jaw dropped.

"I'm sorry?"

Northern Ireland smirked at him.

"You heard me. There's a known fact between all the countries who attend the world summit; I'm pretty easy to get with. So, naturally, as one of the biggest nations in the world, you know these things. Cos you agree with them. Of course, you say you love my brother, and that's just dandy. But I'm going to test you. If you can go the _whole _night by stopping me from seducing you then I'll let you date my brother. But if you succumb to _one _little thing, then what Wales said will come true. Comprende?"

America gulped.

"This is fair! Northern Ireland, we're friends!"

Northern Ireland lifted herself off America and grinned.

"Sure we are. But England's important to me. I just wanna know you won't screw him over by screwing someone else, yeah?"

"But, you're totally contradicting yourself then! If I have sex with you won't I be screwing him over?! And what about France?" America spluttered in disbelief.

Northern Ireland tilted her head to one side in deliberation.

"True. But I'm going to be forcing myself on you, as a test. So it's justified. And France knows about this anyway. He thinks it's hilarious."

America growled at her.

"Well I don't. And I'm telling England, about you and psycho Dylan over there too!"

Northern Ireland looked almost bored as she glanced up with checking her fingernails.

"Yeah, because he's sure to believe you that _Wales _of all people has threatened you. Anyway, haven't you heard of our family motto, America? '_Fuck over a Kirkland, and they'll fuck you over right back.'" _

America glared at her.

"From England's pirate days. He doesn't like anyone knowing that motto now but we still stick by it." Northern Ireland turned on her heel and looked over her shoulder back at America and blew him a kiss.

"Five minutes until dinner. See ya there." And sauntered away over to France and England.

America, running a hand through his hair, sunk back in his chair.

_This family is fucking crazy…_

* * *

_Hahahaha! So you didn't get to see what happened at dinner but you get the idea! Leave you to think of your own scenario, lol! I liked scary Wales, did you? And, well, Northern Ireland is basically being normal! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	10. Man's Best Friend

_Hey, hey! Thanks to ScienceWolf and Anne Fatalism Dilettante for reviewing, you guys are brilliant!_

_Enjoy today's update! _

_Ten: Man's Best Friend._

* * *

They always say a dog is man's best friend. I suppose that could be considered true. Dogs are great. They're always there, they're loyal, and they will never run away. They will never _leave _you.

It's exactly for that reason that I don't have a dog. Because _just_ when you think that it will stay with you forever, it will turn around. It will turn around and run away.

It will turn around, run away and _leave _you.

Ok so you've probably guessed by now that what or who I'm talking about isn't exactly a dog. But more like a human. But then again, not just any human. This human is a nation. Most would probably say the biggest nation in the world. But I, being blinded by rage and jealously, disagree with that statement. That nation grew from only the heartache and pain that another nation had to endure.

Me.

Yeah, yeah. "Wow, it's England!" Calm the hell down. I'm in no mood for squeals or smiles of adoration. If you were in my shoes and walked even a centimetre in them, you would know what it's like to be me. You would know.

So here I am, sitting in a small bar on the outskirts of London on a late Friday night so that _no one _can find me. The reason for this ladies and gents is because today is not a very…nice day if I'm going to be blunt.

Because today is the 3rd of July.

And the time is currently 11.56pm.

I know! Gasp! Let's all feel sorry for the English bloke who lost something special to him this time two hundred and something years ago. Yeah, well you can sod off. I don't want or _need _your pity.

_I don't need anyone. _

I laugh out loud at myself but nobody turns around to stare at me as if I'm crazy. Nobody cares.

However, the reason I laugh is because I'm can't even lie to myself. I did used to need somebody. You can guess who that person is. And they used to need me. _They used to love me. _

Now don't get me wrong, this person was like a little brother to me and when I say he used to love me, I mean like a little brother loves his big brother.

Unfortunately, as time went on, there were certain things that disturbed me about my 'little brother'.

By the way, the reason I'm not calling him by his name is because I don't want to. I don't _like _to. Because I don't _like him_.

Anyway, some things that he did…they just weren't _childlike. _So you can imagine my surprise and utter amazement, one day when I return home and find that this _little _brother of mine is so very, very _big. _And I mean he's taller than me.

He's all grown-up.

Immediately, a seed of worry plants in my mind and the alarm bells start ringing but naively, I ignore them. I feel almost relieved that he's grown up and that thought in itself is not _normal. _

So nowadays I pretend to hate him and not talk to him at the world conferences. I sit opposite him and even though he doesn't notice, I stare at him. _Longingly._ So, I try not to talk to him as much as possible because I hate what I feel. It makes me sick. I think I may be-

Thoughts interrupted.

The clock chimes.

I freeze.

Every bone in my body in frozen on impact of those bells chiming and I squeeze my eyes shut and just wish that I was curled up in my bed, not having to worry about what day it is and what happened all those years ago because it doesn't matter how long it's been. It just hurts. It just hurts, way too much.

But I resist the urge to get up and walk home because on my little table at my side of my door are all those damn letters. All those damn_ invitations_. Knowing that I would ignore the first invite, he decided to send twenty. _Twenty. _It's like every invite is a punch in my stomach. It's like he doesn't even know. And every year when this happens, I never go. Doesn't he understand?

Thoughts interrupted again. This time is the bar phone. I glance up to watch the barman answer it and when he does, even I can hear the screeching on the other end of the line and I'm sitting near the door.

The barman turns his head in my direction and I hear him say yes.

There they are again. Those alarm bells. _Get out of here, Kirkland. Get out now._

I see the barman, who is still staring at me, say a few more words and then puts the phone down. He hurriedly walks up to me.

"Mr Kirkland, I'd leave if I were you. _Now._"

His voice is low and demanding. He seems worried.

The alarm bells ring louder. I hesitant from moving.

"Who was that on the phone? Is someone looking for me?"

The barman glares at the floor.

"It was that American. He's been searching all of bloody London for you. He's got his whole godforsaken CIA out on the streets, tracking you down."

He's been looking for me? This. Is. Not. Good. I gulp and manage to push the next few words out.

"He knows I'm here doesn't he? He's coming." It wasn't so much of a question rather than a statement. I rise to my feet and pull on my coat. The barman looks ashamed.

"I'm sorry Mr Kirkland. It was like he already knew. I've never heard him so _angry _before. He was furious."

I scoff. I ignore his invitations to his stupid birthday and _he_ gets pissed off? While he expects _me_ to come to the only thing that I dread every year because it brings back too many memories? None of which are good?

Just as I bid the barman goodnight and head home (he won't even attempt to get into my house. Not unless he wants a severe beating from the British Army.), the small front door suddenly bursts open and dozens of men in suits barge their way through the bar, all eyes on me. One comes up to me and eyes me carefully. Meanwhile I'm looking for ways to _get out of here. _

The man nods and whips out his walkie-talkie.

"He's here."

Merely seconds later, a screech of tyres can be heard from outside and also the sound of a car door being opened and closed loudly.

I often wondered what would happen if he came to see me on his birthday. I often told myself that I would be fine. Cold. Indifferent. Because I don't need anybody.

No.

Stop lying Arthur.

You _do_ need somebody.

_You need him._

Which is exactly why I can't do this. This is exactly why if he even speaks, I'll crack. This is exactly why, right now, I glance frantically around the bar for an exit.

I see the barman jerking his head anxiously at the bar. I look up and see a door which leads to the alleyways and even though I'm in a desperate state of despair, I can't help but feel quite smug because no one knows the alleyways of London like I do. I did create them after all. No damn way would those yanks be able to keep up with me.

I start edging away from the CIA men when the door suddenly bursts open and I crumble. _Like that._

He's standing there. He's standing _right there _and he's completely _perfect. _The dirty-fair coloured hair, sticking out all over the place, his glasses crooked, his face, puffed out and red from running around the city and his eyes. His deep blue, cerulean eyes which are fixed on me.

And they are furious looking.

"Arthur!" he roars at me, striding up to me and I wince, "where the _fuck _have you been?! I've had half of London, not to mention all of my CIA, out looking for you!"

I immediately snap. This is complete _bullshit. _Since when am I not allowed to go about my own country, wherever I want? I growl at him and repeat everything I had just thought.

He glares at me.

"You haven't talked to anyone all week! No one has spoken to you! We were all worried! We thought something had happened to you!"

I frown and stare at my feet.

"Like you care." I instantly regret saying it because I know how bloody childish that must of sounded.

I look up at him and he is glowering at me as he says extremely abruptly,

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I don't say anything so he continues.

"Why wouldn't I care? I've been looking for you for the past 48 hours! And don't you realise that tomorrow- well technically it's today- that it's my birth-"

I crack.

"_YES I DO!" _I screech at the top of my lungs and the whole bar falls silent immediately. 200 years of pent rage and resentfully coming out _now._

"You absolute idiot! Don't you get it? 200 odd years it's been and you still don't understand why I never want to go to your damn birthday! It's because I can't stand it! It's like this time every year I can't eat, I can't sleep because when I do, I have nightmares. About being left anyone in the rain! By you!"

I can faintly hear my voice getting raspy but I don't care. The only thing I'm looking or even thinking about are the two eyes in front of me which emotion in them has changed from anger to a sort of pleading look. I feel my heart is about to physically break.

"You don't even know what you did to me that day. How you crushed me. How you hurt me. How you _left _me."

I feel moister springing into the corners of my eyes and I command myself not to cry. Not in front of him. I will never let him truly no how he has hurt me.

The only noise that can be heard is my heavy breathing. The clock's ticking sounds ten times as loud and it echoes around the room loudly. The next noise that I heard comes from him and I can't stand it. Just one simple word on his lips that send me over the edge.

"England, I-"

I bolt. I fling myself over the bar and bound through the back door and into the alleyways. I don't even have to look round to know that about thirty men and he are chasing after me. I run faster.

I can hear him screaming my name and the tears fall fluently but I keep running.

Home.

That's all I think about it and it makes me keep going.

I see my gates and yell at the security to open it for me but not to let anyone else in. I sprint towards the gates like an athletic runner to the finish line and as I cross over the line quickly, I hear the gates closing loudly with a bang immediately after.

I don't waste any time getting into my house because I can hear him outside, shouting my name over and over again. I slump against the front door and I cry.

Don't get me wrong, I don't usually cry. I don't usually get emotional; period. But it's just this day and him that always make me like this.

I take a few minutes and the slowly get up, walk into my living room and switch on the light. I yell out in surprise.

Sitting down in my red armchair beside the fire is my little sister. And standing up behind her, are my two brothers.

Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

I know I'm still crying and seeing them here, now, make me cry more.

They rush up to me and console me by hugging me tightly and Northern Ireland just constantly wipes away my tears. I hear her whisper,

"Shh, now, now, that's enough; no one's ever going to sleep with you if you keep acting like such a wimp."

I laugh for the first time in a week and as I look at her, she winks and smiles. I see her poised to articulate something but she frowns slightly and then hugs me again.

I know what she was about to say. _He's not worth it. _But she doesn't because she and I both know that it's not true.

After spending the few hours with my family, it's nearly four o'clock before they say their goodbyes and Northern Ireland is the last to go.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay tonight? Just in case you wanted to talk?" Her soothing motherly voice makes me want to scream '_Yes! Please do! I need you!' _but I refrain because I tell myself I need to be alone and so I shake my head, smiling slightly.

"Don't worry about me, Emily. I'm a big boy now. I tie my own shoelaces and everything." I grin at her and she tilts her head to the side, analysing me, if only for a second before she smiles and kisses me on the cheek and bids me goodbye.

I hurry upstairs to my bedroom and crawl into bed.

Alone and scared about what this morning will bring, I drift off into a restless sleep, thinking one last think before I head before darkness surrounds me;

_Happy Birthday America._

* * *

_Aw! Tell me what you think! Very angsty and sad __ I kinda wanted America and England to make up but I was trying, for once, the realistic approach. I don't like it, ha-ha! Hope you liked, LucyMoon1992 x_


	11. Envy

_Hey everyone. Thank you so much for the reviews =] _

_Eleven: Envy_

* * *

Ugh. Look at him. He's basically _throwing _himself at him. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I glance to my right just for a moment and Germany is still ranting about the euro crisis so I bring my eyes back to the two of them.

_What is he doing? _It's like he enjoys the attention. What happened to '_The jerk France- I hate him so much?' _

I blood boils at the sight of France putting a hand on his. _That frog is dead…_He looks surprised by France's actions but doesn't swat his hand away. This pisses me off even more.

I'm suddenly aware of a pair of eyes on me and I look down the extremely long table to see my brother frowning at me. I raise my eyebrows in question and he jerks his head in their direction. I nod. _Ahhh…so Matt pretty pissed too. Too bad he sucks at showing it._

Canada gives me a 'are you going to do anything about it?' looks and I shrug and slump back in my seat. I want to but I won't. France would be like 'HA I KNEW IT!', if I showed any kind of jealously. Boy, do I wanna sock him one though, arrogant baguette- eating douche.

I finally hear Germany say that the meeting is concluded and I stand up quickly and rush from the room, feeling like if I have to look at them together one more time, I _will _punch France in that pretty-boy face of his.

"America!"

My feet halt at the sound of his voice and spinning around on my heel, my eyes narrow and I glare at the green-eyed man approaching me.

"Yes?" I spit out through gritted teeth.

"Why are you leaving so early? You usually ask everyone out for drinks. You've been awfully quiet- don't get me wrong, I enjoy the silence but it's unsettling when you don't talk." He smiles playfully at me and I glare at him. _He hasn't said a word to me all morning because he was too busy playing footsie under the table with France and he wants to know why _I've _been quiet? Son of a-_

"America?" He questions again and I glower at him.

"I'm tired." I mumble, "I wanna go home." _God, can I sound anymore pathetic?_

He continues to smile as he says, "Well, why don't you come and have some coffee with me? We haven't talked in a while and there are some things I want to discuss with you."

I can't help the grin that spreads over my face. _Oh Jesus Christ, man up! _I shrug and run a hand through my hair.

"Yeah I guess can an hour or so couldn't hurt."

He smiles again.

"Excellent! I'll just go get France and we'll-" _Oh no he didn't! _

"_France?"_ I growl out and he looks at me in confusion.

"Well, yes, he was the one who suggest I ask you-" _You didn't even think to invite me in the first place? You had to wait for France to tell you to ask me? Ouch. That really, really stings. _

"You know what?" I can barely get the words out; I'm so _fucking furious, _"I just remembered I have a ton of paperwork to get through by tomorrow so I'm going to have to pass. Maybe another time." _Like when you decide that you want to spend some time with me alone instead of that asshole Frog!_

He opens his mouth to say something but I spin on my heel and briskly walk away.

* * *

I watch his retreating figure and I sigh. _Was that meant to happen? _

France comes out of his hiding place behind one of the big potted plants and grins at me.

"I don't think he's very happy right now."

France laughs.

"Good! He's not meant to be! Just you wait; it's all going according to plan. He is _incensed _with jealously. Did you not see his face all during that meeting and just there now? I won't be surprised if he makes an amorous declaration to you at the next meeting."

I scoff but can't help but smile tentatively at my companion. I can't believe I asked for France's help but he _is_ the self-proclaimed nation of love so he's bound to know something to help me along with America.

As we turn to walk in the direction of the coffee shop to think of more ways to make America jealous, I glance back at where America stood only moments before and say,

"God, I hope so."

* * *

_Tehe! Hope you liked! Please drop a wee review, if you can! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	12. Stupid Cupid

_MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! It's officially Christmas Day over here in the UK so hope everyone has a lovely day! Anyway, here's an update so I'll shush and then probably go to sleep! Enjoy!_

_P.S. I know this is a valentine's day fic but I love it so I'm putting it up!_

_Twelve: Stupid Cupid_

* * *

"Wales, you've had a lot of dumb ideas, but this one takes the cake."

"Don't you mean this one takes the heart-shaped box of chocolates?"

Scotland scowled. "No-why would I mean that?"

"Oh, Allistor, you're just jealous that you didn't think of this first. Would you hand me the tape?"

Scotland groaned but passed over the tape as asked, before standing to look over the building's concrete ledge. The wind, frigid and sharp, whipped his blonde hair over his face and made him think of all the hundreds of places he would rather be than on top of a four-story building. Alone with Wales and his crazy ideas.

"Do you see them?" said Wales, wrapping his hand-written note around the shaft of his arrow and securing it with the tape.

"Not ye-oh! Yes, here comes America."

Wales squealed and picked up the arrow and his toy bow, spray-painted bright pink and coated with glitter for the occasion, and joined Scotland at the edge. On the street below, harried men and women darted around on the sidewalks, ignorant of the two girls peering down on them. And in their midst was America, practically bouncing with joy, his arms laden with stuffed toys and cherry-red cards, happily devouring a chocolate truffle.

"And here comes England," said Wales, pointing in the other direction. "Right on time." He lifted his bow up and cocked the arrow against the string.

Scotland groaned, sensing imminent disaster. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Hush, I need to concentrate."

"If you kill an innocent bystander, I wash my hands of all responsibility."

"Stop worrying bro. I'm an old pro at this."

"An old pro? Dylan, how many times in your life have you used a bow and arrow?"

Wales snorted and shrugged Scotland's comment off as he pulled the string taut and took aim. "Never," he said. "But I'm convinced I was Cupid in a previous life."

xXx

The moment England spotted America bustling down the jam-packed Oxford Street with his Valentine's Day haul, a black cloud filled the sky overhead and lightning bolts flared up from his head to his clenched fists. How many admirers did the twat have?

America, finally spotting his frenemy, stopped chewing mid-bite with bits of chocolate stuck to his lips, blinked up at the nation, then creased his brow into a glare.

"Whadyouwann?" he mumbled, then gulped and licked his lips in an innocent gesture that tipped England's blood to boiling.

"How pathetic," said England, "that you feel the need to buy yourself all those presents just to make yourself feel loved on a stupid, corny holiday."

America's eyes widened. Heat flooded his cheeks. He was used to cruelty from England, but that was just low. "I did not buy these for myself! They were all gifts from other nations, plus the odd randomer who thought I was hot. They ain't wrong like."

"Right. And I suppose Cupid's rea—"

_Thwack!_

Silenced and stunned, England slowly lowered his gaze to the thin wooden rod with the heart-shaped tail jutting from his chest.

America also gaped, slack-jawed, and then looked up at the building tops, half-expecting to see a winged figure in a loin cloth darting away. He thought he heard an excited "Bulls-eye!" from far above them, but couldn't be sure.

America looked back at England, who appeared frozen before him, and wondered briefly if his prayers had been answered and he was dead. But no, the arrow was little more than a suction cup on a stick.

Then America saw the roll of paper wrapped around the arrow and, reaching up, peeled the note away.

"England," he read, "stop being an idiot and ask America out already. You know you want to. xoxo, Cupid."

Another flush rose to America's cheeks, just as England grabbed the note while simultaneously ripping the arrow from his jacket. "It does not say that," he said, then read it, then sputtered, "Wha—? Who? I don't—!" and then turned quite an endearing shade of red himself.

"Wait a minute," said America, snatching the note back and reading it a second time. "I know this handwriting…." He gasped and crumpled the note in his fist. "WALES!"

His scream was loud enough to send a flock of pigeons flurrying into the air—but Cupid had already left the building.

* * *

_LOL! Oh Wales! You so cute! Hope you liked! LucyMoon1992 x_


	13. Wishlist

_Hi, thanks for those who reviewed: __**Angel of the Midnight Sea**__ (you're right, he did it about fifty times!), __**Anne Fatalism Dilettante**__ (Merry Xmas to you too!) and __**Nemi Mercer**__ (I know, I'm hilarious, lol!)_

_Disclaimer: Because I haven't done one in so long- I don't own Hetalia._

* * *

_Thirteen: Wish list._

It was just a normal, sunny day in London, where a world conference was being held. After having a long and extremely boring talk about global warming, the countries decided to take a relaxing two hour lunch break and so there they were; England, America, Japan, France, Northern Ireland and Scotland sitting idly at a table, each one doing different things. England was reading a book about historical landmarks in Eastern Europe, America was chatting to France, Japan and Northern Ireland about the next amazing party he was holding at his place and Scotland was smoking while texting his other brother.

"So yeah after that party, the next main one will be Christmas! I can't wait!" America exclaimed, clapping his hands together in glee. France chuckled.

"America, we just _had_ Christmas."

"Yeah I know, but I have to start planning, like, now! I need so much time to prepare for this sort of thing. And," He held his breath before announcing, "I need to start writing my Christmas wish list for Santa!"

Japan rolled his eyes slightly and threw Northern Ireland a here-we-go look to which she giggled.

"Because you're obviously dying to tell us; what would you ask for, America?" Northern Ireland questioned.

America, deep in thought, looked down at the table and said slowly, "Well, if I think about it, I have anything I want anyway so I guess I would ask Santa for love!"

Northern Ireland snorted and couldn't help glance to her brother, who was pretending to be reading his book but began frowning, his mouth set in a straight line and she could have sworn she saw steam coming out of his ears.

"Love?" France repeated, immediately excited by the change of subject to one of his favourite topics of conversation.

America nodded, grinning.

"Yeah, I mean I've never fell in love with anyone before so that would be cool. I guess I never really had the time, as a kid I was always stuck inside, _forced _to read books and never have any friends." The words were dripping with elation but England didn't rise to anything America said, only twitching slightly and his glare on his book was so fierce, the group of four thought he could probably burn a hole through the thing.

Suddenly a thought popped into America's head. England! He turned his blue eyes onto the British man. What would he wish for? He was really curious.

"Hey England?"

"Go away. I'm busy, idiot," England murmured distractedly, running a hand through his light hair.

"Just one question and I won't bother you for the rest of lunch." he said good-naturedly.

"Fine, fine. Shoot." he said in annoyance, trying to tune him out.

"I wish," America muttered under his breath, picturing himself with a shot-gun. Nah, Too messy. Okay, now for the question. What would he answer?

"If you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?" America asked him teasingly, blue eyes curious. What could grumpy, stubborn albeit good-looking guy like England want, if he could have anything?

He scowled at his own thoughts. England was not good-looking damn it!

If England had been paying more attention to the group of cheerful countries, if he hadn't been so busy buried in his book and if he really even cared what America said, he wouldn't have blurted it out. Someone up there just hated him!

"You," he said absently.

To his misfortune, a slight lull had come over the lunch-room and his words came through crystal clear to anyone standing near.

Murmuring broke out all over the canteen as person told person what England had said and soon, everyone was staring at him, with expressions ranging from glee to shock. They all knew the handsome, irritable Briton always fought with America. So to hear something like that was...stunning.

There was a dead silence from everyone.

"_Excuse me?!" _Americablurted in shock, gawking at the blonde-haired man. Him! He wanted _him_ for Christmas!

France continued to gape, stunned. Had England just said what he thought he had said? And if he had...that meant that England had a crush on America? Hon,hon,hon…

'What?' England said in annoyance, head rising from his book to stare at the blonde. What had he said to make him look like that? And why was everyone at the table and the whole damn canteen gaping at him in a completely flabbergasted way?

'What? _What?,'_ he said again when no one answered him. And then, to his astonishment, America's gaping mouth snapped shut and he gave him the most evil look he'd ever seen. Okay, now he was nervous!

'I just asked you what you wanted for Christmas more than _anything_ in the world,' the blonde said, blue eyes glinting at him with mischief and mirth. Well, well! England wanted the United States of America for Christmas. Boy, was he never going to live that down!

"And? Did I say anything?" England demanded, shifting in his seat. He glanced around again to see everyone _grinning_ at him.

Oh hell! What had he said?

He tried to recall, but came up with a complete blank. Let's see, he had a great car, a beautiful house, an ok government. Had he said...a friend?

He paled and met America's gleeful look head-on. Would the blonde be so malicious as to take delight in his lack of friends? He did have France, Japan and his siblings. And he _did_ think America and him were getting on a bit better. No. No, he wouldn't...so that just left...

His deep green eyes widened in complete horror as it suddenly hit him what he had probably said.

"_America._ You wished for America for Christmas!" Northern Ireland chortled, unable to keep silent for any longer.

France snickered and gave England a teasing grin. "How very adventurous of you, Angleterre. Asking for the guy nearly every country would love to get their hands on. I had no idea!"

As the others teased England, a thought occurred to America. What a weird coincidence that both enemies had wished for love? 'Weird,' he muttered.

"The likely-hood of getting America to come to you gift-wrapped is-" Japan glanced at America's face, which was still filled with unholy delight. 'Six billion to one.' he finished calmly, a slight smile on his face.

England was stunned. Completely _poleaxed_! He sat there, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and horrified.

"I asked that?" he managed through his dry mouth. Of all the things he could have said, he said _that!_ Was he crazy?

Now the whole world knew of his obsession with the 'hero'. And worse- America himself was sitting right there! He was absolutely never going to live this down.

England groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 'I'm an idiot!' he muttered over and over.

America leant closer to the blonde-haired man to hear what he was saying and his grin widened.

"Yes, you are." he whispered into his ear, making him jump. He smirked at his stunned expression. For the moment, America seemed to forget that it was actually _him _that England had wished for.

"I am _so_ loving this!" he taunted, staring directly into his eyes from centimetres away.

"Hey, mon ami?" France glanced at England and leaned over to him. "Just what were you planning on doing with the America when you got him in your clutches?" he said slyly.

England shot him a dirty look.

"Pervert!" America shrieked, suddenly remembering that he was the guy they were all talking about. England had wished for _him! Why did that make him feel…special? _ He flushed brightly, averting his eyes from England.

"Shut up!" England roared at him, losing his temper. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that the whole place knew his secret wish, but to have France and America act like he was some creep, trying to get into America as fast as he could!

"That is completely out of order," he added with a growl, un-amused.

"So what did you intend to do with him?" Northern Ireland asked with interest, throwing America a sly look to match France's.

"Oui. I'm _dying _to know." France said eagerly, blue eyes on England's face.

"Oh for fuck sake, will you all just sod off?" _Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?_

'But England, you can't just say something like that and not expect us to act like you said you only wanted a dog for Christmas.' Scotland chimed in and everyone nodded in agreement.

"Well, I think it was kinda cute."

England's jaw dropped as he shifted his gaze onto America. _I'm sorry….what?!_

'I mean, everyone thinks I'm awesome but to think that England is actually _in love _with me is pretty adorable.' He smiled at England who was gazing at him in disbelief. 'So yes.' He said calmly. England's brow furrowed.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You clearly wanna ask me out, but you're too embarrassed to so that's cool. Next Saturday? Your place?"

England couldn't speak. How the hell did this change from him being so humiliated he might die, to going on a date with the guy who was the cause of the humiliation? Not that he was complaining…

Unable to speak, Northern Ireland piped up for him.

"He'll be there."

America grinned.

'Awesome.' He glanced idly at his watch and he let out a groan of annoyance. 'Aw crap! I almost forgot; I have to go to the dvd store and get a copy of that new horror movie that just came out. Tony really wants to see it so if I leave now, I should be able to make it back for the second part of the conference.'

He got up quickly and threw his bomber jacket over his shoulders. He hesitated for a second and then quickly leaned over to England and pressed his lips on his, before drawing back, giving him a wink and disappearing out the doors.

Dumbstruck, England sat there, mildly aware of France doing his creeping laugh, Japan flushing a bright red and sneakily putting away a camera and Northern Ireland slapping him on the back. He looked up to see her grinning at him like a mad woman.

"Well England, even though it's twelve months away, looks like you got your wish!"

England smiled.

That he did.

* * *

_Awww! Hope you liked! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	14. The Unsinkable Ship Part 1

_Hiya! I wrote this for the 100 year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic and I'm putting it back up again! It's a 3-parter so enjoy!_

_Fourteen: The Unsinkable Ship Part 1_

* * *

April 12th 13.30pm

Emily Kirkland stood below her creation and grinned, the sunlight hitting her hair and eyes, making her almost glow.

It was perfect.

Emily never deemed anything as perfect, not in this world of madness. But if there was something she could define as perfection, _this _was it.

The _RMS Titanic_.

Ignoring the excited cries from passengers boarding the ship, she simply stood there, gazing in disbelief. It was finally finished. And was about to set sail. She reminded herself to buy Mr Andrews a very large glass of brandy later on in the evening.

Sensing another person near her, she simply sighed happily and turned.

"What do you think?" She asked nervously. She had one person to impress. If she managed to impress him, she would die a happy woman.

The man, who looked extremely like her, tilted his head to one side, analysing. He smiled.

"It is fantastic, my dear. I couldn't have done a much better job myself."

Emily gasped with joy, the glow in her face intensifying and the man beside her walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Shall we?"

Nodding vigorously, she looked up once again.

"We shall."

* * *

"Man, I cannot wait to get home!"

Looking out the window of his first-class cabin, Alfred Jones grinned. He could almost _hear_ New York calling to him. His cousin, Allistor was lying on the bed, reading a book, glanced up at him and frowned.

"Can't wait to leave, can we?"

The man in question turned to his companion.

"Damn right. Don't get me wrong, I love England, but I miss New York. So it'll be awesome to get back there."

Allistor simply sighed and returned to his book. Being cousins with Alfred was sometimes tedious but he had offered him a first-class ticket on the Titanic so he could stay with him for a couple of weeks in New York. He wasn't going to pass that up.

Suddenly Alfred jumped away from the window and headed for the door.

"I'm going to check out the promenade deck; care to join me?"

The Scot, not looking up, mumbled something that sounded like, 'busy' so Alfred simply rolled his eyes and yelled, "Ok, catch ya later!" And disappeared from the room.

* * *

Bouncing along the deck which showed all the thousands of people below him, Alfred, not looking where he was going, crashed into someone.

"Geez, I'm really sorry!" Alfred gasped, jumping away from the person, whose long, blonde locks were covering his face.

"Mon Dieu…" The man muttered and Alfred sighed. Great. A frog. The man swatted at his handsome garments for a minute and then turned to the American.

"It's no problem, oui?" Eying him up and down, the Frenchman stuck his hand out,"Francis Bonnefoy. Please to meet your acquaintance."

Alfred, smiling, grasped his hand eagerly, pleased to have met someone so quickly. The ship hadn't even set sail yet and he had made a friend! "Alfred Jones. Nice to meet you."

"An American, hm?" Francis chuckled, "I assume that you are heading home, non?"

Alfred nodded, "Yeah, I've been here on business for a couple of months but it's all finished now so I can go home. Really excited to get back. And yourself? You speak excellent English!"

Francis looked smug at Alfred's complement and replied loftily, "Well oui, my girlfriend, she is Irish and my best friend English and he doesn't like it when I speak in my mother tongue so I had to learn. I do not mind. In fact, it is my 'Frenchness' that won my girlfriend over." He said silkily winking at Alfred.

"Don't listen to this fraud; he likes to lie to impress people."

Alfred jumped, and turned to see the two new people who had appeared.

A young woman of about seventeen leaned over and kissed Francis of the cheek while the man beside her frowned, looking away. They both looked alike, perhaps they were siblings.

"I believe you were telling this extremely handsome man about me?" The girl turned to Alfred and grinned while he flushed, embarrassed by her praise.

"This is Alfred Jones; I only met him a moment ago. Alfred, this is my fiancée Emily Kirkland; her company designed and created this wonderful ship we are currently on."

Jaw dropping at her name, he dozily shook her hand in awe.

"Y-you're Emily Kirkland?" He choked out. She grinned.

"The one and only," She nodded.

He turned slightly to the man standing beside her and Alfred's eyes widened. So if that was Emily then this was…

"Arthur Kirkland."

The blonde-haired man nodded gruffly at Alfred before turning to Francis.

"You idiot. You were supposed to meet us on the Captain's deck. We were waiting there for fifteen minutes."

"Keep your hair piece on, Mother. I was heading in that direction. But then I was bumped into." Francis flashed a grin at Alfred, who in turn winced, feeling he had wasted the Kirkland's time.

"No matter, no matter." Emily swatted at Francis and suddenly from under their feet the boat began to move.

The four of them rushed to the side of the ship and waved at the people below.

Grinning like a madwoman, Emily turned to the American.

"New York here we come!"

* * *

April 14th 13.40pm

Once out of the harbour, the ship sailed to Cherbourg and then Queenstown and from then on out, there was nothing but ocean surrounding the Titanic. The four companions, who had dined together every night and Alfred becoming fast friends with each of them, seemed relaxed and happy. Allistor was being his usual prickish self and refused to come out of the room unless for food.

Alfred found himself becoming closer and closer to Arthur Kirkland who was obviously Emily's brother and had funded the making of the Titanic. Alfred couldn't stop staring at him, he didn't know what attracted him to the British man so and he always flushed bright red when Arthur caught him looking.

After dinner, the four made their way to the promenade deck and sat down around one of the long tables. Alfred felt quite smug by the fact he was friends with Emily Kirkland. It seemed that everyone wanted to talk to her. It made sense, this was basically her ship. He was stunned however, when Thomas Andrews, the ship's designer and Bruce Ismay, the chairman of White Star Line and the person who thought to make titanic sat down beside them and introduced themselves.

"So they say that this ship is unsinkable?" Francis questioned, throwing an open looking at Emily.

"It is unsinkable!" Andrews proclaimed proudly, "God himself could not sink this ship."

"Jesus, man, don't jinx the damn thing!" Arthur snapped.

"Don't worry, Master Kirkland, I built you a strong ship, good and true."

Emily frowned as she added the sum once again in her head.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, Mr Andrews but doing the sum in my head, I added the amount of lifeboats and the amount of people on board and, I know this seems ridiculous, but there isn't enough for everyone if tragedy strikes."

Andrews grimaced.

"Less than half, Miss Kirkland. I had added more room on the promenade deck for another 20 but _some people," _Andrews glanced up at Ismay who ignored him, "thought that the deck would look to cluttered."

Ismay suddenly stood up, looking at Emily and inclined his head towards the bridge- where the captain and most of his first officers were. Emily excused herself and followed him.

"Is there a problem Mr Ismay?" She questioned.

"Yes there is Miss Kirkland. It seems the captain does not want to put the ship into 'full swing' as it were. He refuses to push her up to 22 knots. I think it we made it to New York by Tuesday everyone would be astounded. Don't you agree?"

They had now reached the bridge and standing observing a map of their route was the captain, Edward Smith. Upon noticing the two, he smiled, walking over to the pair and kissed Emily's hand.

"Miss Kirkland, Mr Ismay. How can I be of service?"

"Miss Kirkland agrees with me on the matter of Titanic's speed. The press have got to get something new! We shall make the morning papers by arriving on Tuesday night."

"Excuse me Mr Ismay, but I did not agree with you. I find it perfectly understandable why the captain is choosing this speed and it is his choice whether or not to increase or decrease the swiftness of this ship. I hired him for that reason." Emily frowned at the chairman, "Let him do his job Mr Ismay."

Ismay glared at the young woman as a man came in, dressed in white star attire and handed a telegram to Smith.

"Captain, a telegram from the_ RMS Amerika, _reporting it saw bergs, growlers and field ice."

The Captain gave an exasperated sigh.

"That's the third one today. First the _Caronia_, then the _Baltic_, and now this! If we get another warning we shall have to change course."

By the look on their faces, it seemed that both Emily and Ismay seemed alarmed. The captain gave them a reassuring smile.

"Do not worry, Miss Kirkland. We expect icebergs at this time of year. We shall be fine."

_To be continued…_

* * *

_Aye, Smith. You'll be just dandy…Anyway, hope you liked, th__anks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	15. The Unsinkable Ship Part 2

_Hey! So I'm happening that everyone is enjoying the Titanic arc so far so anyway enjoy the next bit! Thanks for all the reviews, they make my day!_

_By the way I made a mistake on the first chapter of this! The date the Titanic set sail from Southampton was the 10__th__ of April not the 12__th__! _

_Fifteen: The Unsinkable Ship Part 2_

* * *

_14__th__ April 16.30pm_

Arthur didn't really know how to describe it. One moment he and Alfred were having a stroll along Arthur's private deck, the next he was kissing him. _Kissing _him.

Getting over the initial shock, Arthur pushed Alfred anyway from him.

"What are you _doing?" _He gasped out, eyes wide.

"Kissing you, _obviously_." Came the blunt reply.

"You know what I mean."

Alfred shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. It _was_ endearing to the Briton.

"I've wanted to do that since I met you 4 days ago. Don't lie to me and tell me you don't like me back."

Arthur avoided the blonde-haired man's gaze.

"Sod off."

Alfred grinned and closed the space between them. "Whatever old man." And captured Arthur's lips with his.

* * *

_April 14__th__, 22.30pm_

Jack Phillips was not having a good day. As radio operator on board the RMS Titanic, it was his job to relay important messages to the captain and give passengers any messages sent from loved ones.

Since the_ Amerika's _messages about icebergs, the _SS Californian_ had reported "three large bergs" at 19:30, and at 21:40, the steamer_ Mesaba_ reported: "Saw much heavy pack ice and great number large icebergs. Also field ice." This message never left the Titanic's radio room. Phillips was far too busy transmitting messages for passengers via the relay station at Cape Race, Newfoundland; the radio set had broken down the day before, resulting in a backlog of messages that the two operators were trying to clear. A final warning was received at 22:30 from operator Cyril Evans of the _Californian_, which had halted for the night in an ice field some miles away.

Phillips giving a howl of irritation, quickly signalled back, "Shut up! Shut up! I'm working Cape Race." And began working on messages once more.

* * *

_April 14__th__ 23.30pm_

Charles Lightroller, Second Officer aboard the Titanic, stifled a yawn and patted First Officer, William Murdoch, on the back as he was taking command for the bridge for the rest of the evening. Sixth officer Moody, came out onto deck and called to Murdoch,

"Enjoy, I'm off to do my rounds."

Murdoch grunted and turned his attention to the crystal clear ocean. It was a very clear night; the sea was like glass, so smooth that the stars were clearly reflected. Murdoch smiled slightly. _Another perfect night._

95ft above him, in the crow's nest, lookout Frederick Fleet blew into his hands in a vain attempt to keep warm while Reginald Lee, his companion, looked ahead in an uninterested way.

"It's bloody freezing!" Fleet choked out, rubbing his hands together.

"I can't see a damn thing." The other managed to reply, shivering. Checking his watch, he gave a groan, noticing it was only 23.39pm. Tonight was going to be a _long_ night.

"That's because we haven't got any binoculars, genius. Wee mix-up back in Southampton." He turned and grinned at his partner, "doesn't matter anyway because I can smell ice."

Rolling his eyes, Lee muttered, "Aye, sure you can."

Indignant, Fleet cried back, "I can alright? Sure, it'll come in handy. You heard Officer Lightroller telling the other crew and especially us, to keep a sharp look-out for ice, particularly small ice and growlers."

Lee nodded and both turned their attention to the front of the ship. Immediately they froze. Because straight ahead, in the direct line of Titanic's path was an iceberg.

"_Bugger_ me!" Fleet yelled and rang the bell three times.

Hearing the bell, below them, Murdoch looked up and spotted the iceberg.

"Pick up you bastards!" Fleet yelled into the phone, calling the bridge. Moody walked briskly to the telephone.

"Is anyone there?" He recognised the lookout Fleet's terrified voice.

'Yes, what do you see?'

"ICEBERG, RIGHT AHEAD!"

"Thank-you."

Sprinting onto to deck, he yelled to Murdoch, "Iceberg, right ahead!"

Murdoch ran into the bridge and commanded Quartermaster Robert Hitchens to change the ship's course.

"Hard a'starboard!" He bellowed and Hitchens began turning the wheel left, which would result in the ship's tiller being moved all the way to starboard (the right side of the ship) in an attempt to turn the ship to port. Murdoch also rang "Full Astern" on the ship's telegraphs, which would reverse the ship's engines.

Running back onto deck, Murdoch watched the Titanic come closer and closer the iceberg.

"Come on, turn, turn." He mumbled under his breath.

Above him, both Fleet and Lee watched in trepidation as the ship creeped closer to the berg.

"Why aren't they turning?!" Fleet yelled.

Ever so slowly the ship began to turn but suddenly with a thundering noise, the ship smashed into the iceberg with a glancing blow, causing bits of ice to come crashing onto deck. An underwater spur of ice scraped along the starboard side of the ship for about seven seconds.

All was silent apart from in the crow's nest as Fleet blew a sigh of relief, not realising the iceberg had done any damage.

Grinning at his companion, he said, "That was close, wasn't it?"

Glaring, Lee grabbed him by the collar and growled. "_Smell ice_, can ya? Bleedin' Christ."

A few minutes later, all of Titanic's engines were stopped, leaving the ship facing north and drifting in the Labrador Current.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_I know, I'm awful for leaving this on a cliff-hanger but I couldn't help it! Reviews would be lovely! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	16. The Unsinkable Ship Part 3

_Hello everyone! I am so thankful that everyone is reviewing so kindly and also for all the alerts and favourites, I am truly grateful! _

_Anywho, I do realise that this chapter is meant to be the sinking of the ship but I don't want to do it that way. There will be a few moments in this chapter where you see some moments of the sinking but not all of it. And there's going to be major angst; just warning you now. Prepare the tissues. XD But please enjoy! _

_Sixteen: The Unsinkable Ship Part 3._

* * *

_April 14__th__ 23.56pm_

Emily had felt the massive shudder that rippled through the ship and so wasn't entirely surprised when a crew member asked her and Francis to join the captain and his officers in the bridge. When they arrived, they were greeted with an unfamiliar sight- the officers were talking lowly to each other and running off in different directions and the captain looked dazed and confused, like he was in a dream that was turning into a nightmare.

Emily spotted her brother and Alfred so with Francis, she walked over to them.

"What's happened?"

Arthur shrugged slightly, frowning, "I don't know. We were asked to come here and now we're waiting on Mr Andrews to show up."

Right on cue, a very tired and extremely distressed Thomas Andrews entered the room, holding a large map of the ship. He was followed by an anxious Bruce Ismay and quickly Andrews sprawled the map onto a large table and inclined for the captain to stand closer.

"Water... fourteen feet above the keel in ten minutes. In the forepeak, in all three holds and in the boiler room six."

"When can we get underway, damn it?" cried Ismay.

Arthur, Alfred, Francis and Emily all looked at each other. _Water?_

"That's five compartments!" stated Andrews. "She can stay afloat with the first four compartments breached, but not five. Not five." He repeated to the captain. "As she goes down by the head, the water will spill over the tops of the bulkheads at E deck from one to the next. Back to back. There's no stopping it."

"The pumps!" cried the captain at once. "If we opened the doors-"

"The pumps buy you time, but minutes only," interrupted Mr Andrews. "From this moment, no matter what we do, Titanic will founder." He finished gravely.

At his words, Emily looked to her brother in alarm.

"But this ship cannot sink!" exclaimed Ismay incredulously.

"She's made of iron, sir." Mr Andrews replied. "I assure you, she can...and she will. It is a mathematical certainty."

The captain turned to Officer Murdoch.

"And how many on board Mr Murdoch?" He whispered.

"Twenty-two hundred souls on board sir." He replied, his voice cracking.

Emily moved slowly forward.

"This isn't possible." Her eyes suddenly widened as she remembered her conversation with Andrews about the lifeboats, "Mr Andrews…half of the people on this ship will…"

He couldn't bear to look at her but gave her a heartfelt hug.

"You and your friends must get to a boat Miss Kirkland. Immediately."

And with that he rushed out, away to help prepare with the evacuation.

It was the last time the four companions ever saw Thomas Andrews again.

* * *

The woman sat at the windowsill in the chair that had been made especially for her and she looked out, staring beyond the vast fields of green that lay in front of the building she was in and onto…where? She could not remember the last time she had left the place. Not like she could, even if she wanted.

She tried to reach for her tea, sitting on the table right beside her and couldn't even manage that. A nurse walked up quickly and helped her but she swatted the kind woman away. She wanted to be alone. On today of all days.

The nurse frowned slightly before walking out into the hallway where the nurse's office was.

"Miss Kirkland seems even more moody today than usual, don't you think?"

The other nurse, no older than thirty frowned at the younger.

"Do be easy on her Kate. It's 80 years to the day that she was on the Titanic."

The nurse, Kate, gasped.

"She was on that?"

"Her company made the damn thing. She blames herself completely. You can't imagine the amount of times we have saved her before she…" The nurse looked away, "She lost someone extremely invaluable to her that day. I'm not too sure who, but he or she was important."

Kate looked back into the sitting area where the old woman was sitting. God, I wonder how she must be feeling…

"_Get on the boat, Emily. I'll get on one later!"_

"_There's no way in hell I'm leaving you. I'm staying right here."_

_It was the eyes._

"_Please. If you love me, you'll do this. Please."_

_It was the embrace._

"_Don't you dare miss a boat."_

_It was the smile._

"_I'll be seeing you. And I'll look after your brother and Alfred. I promise."_

"_I love you."_

_It was the kiss._

"_I love you."_

_It was the love._

"_I promise I'll see you again."_

_It was the lie._

Emily brought her hand slowly to her lips and felt the ghost of that kiss. The last kiss she had ever given someone. There was no one else. There couldn't be. And usually she did not allow herself to think of him. Of all of them. But today was the only day she allowed herself to think. To remember.

A long-lost memory popped into her mind and she suddenly wondered what _he _was doing right now. Where would he be? Who was he with?

Then almost as though the Gods wanted Emily's question answered, the nurse appeared by her side again.

"Miss Kirkland, you have visitor. He travelled a very long way to see you."

She turned ever so slowly in her chair and when she saw the person standing in the doorway, for the first time that day, she wept.

* * *

_15th April 02.40am_

The water has unbearable. Alfred wondered absently if dying would be more of a comfort. But he wanted to remain strong. He had something to live for. Three things to live for. One was safely away and that he was immensely grateful of Francis for convincing her to go. The other two things were floating opposite him, staring back at him, frozen. One of them, the one he knew he had fallen for, was looking at him like for the last time. He refused to acknowledge the look and so stammered out,

"We just have to wait a small while for the boats to be organised. They'll be back for us."

It was getting quieter now. There were only a few dull yells from nearby but looking around, it was like a watery tomb. There were fixed looks of pure terror on people's faces as they had finally succumbed to the hypothermia. But not Alfred. He would stay alive.

Looking around him, he spotted a large piece of wood and motioned to the other two to follow him. His limbs were stiff and heavy and he felt very tired like he wanted to shut his eyes. Making his way over to the plank, the three of them clambered onto the wood and lay down, shivering. They sat there in silence until Francis spoke.

"I'm glad I got to tell Emily that I loved her."

Arthur, with as much conviction as he could possibly muster, snapped, "Don't you dare talk like that! You are going to see her again. You will survive this, frog."

Hearing a faint chuckle from the Frenchman seemed enough for Arthur as he turned his gaze on Alfred. The American could clearly see the fear in his eyes.

"I've only known you for four days," He swallowed thickly, "and I think I'm already in love with you. And I'm glad. Glad I met you Alfred."

"You just barked at Francis for saying his goodbyes and now you're doing just that. Stop it Arthur. We were _all _going to survive this. We'll make it through."

Arthur gave him a watery smile and pulled him closer, putting a frozen arm around Alfred and closed his eyes.

"I'll always love you."

* * *

_15th April 03.30am_

Staring up at the endless blue sky, somehow passed the time and it seemed they had stopped talking to save energy. Alfred didn't mind that much. He was so unbelievably cold but he would persevere and wait.

Moments later, he felt a bright light shining into his face and he looked to his right to see a boat floating beside him and a man extending his hand. Alfred grabbed it and was hauled into the lifeboat. A blanket was thrown over him and it felt like heaven and he managed a small smile. He saw the man extend his hand again to the others but no one took it. The smile immediately fell from his face. He leaned over the side of the boat.

"Arthur, Francis, take the good man's han-"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

No.

No.

"Come on son, don't look, just lie down-"

The sailor pulled Alfred from the side of the boat and sat him in the middle. He simply shook his head sadly at the officer and then began to go forward.

Immediately the night was pierced by the anguish screams of Alfred Jones.

* * *

She looked at him and him back at her. For the longest time, they just sat there staring. Emily broke the silence.

"How are you?" She croaked, her voice tried and used, as it would be after 97 years.

"Living." He said simply and he didn't elaborate. He didn't have to. Every day was getting tougher and tougher, a thing Emily was extremely aware of.

"It must have been difficult getting over here." She tried, thinking of conversation. The man, who was one year older than her, frowned, his grey eyebrows furrowing.

"I didn't come to make idle chit-chat Emily. I came to express my farewells." He paused. "And Francis's."

Emily's head began spinning.

"What are you talking about?" She choked out, her breath coming up short and raspy.

"I do not believe I will live another year and I am not sad about that. I have lived my life to the fullest, for one person and words cannot describe how I am looking forward to seeing him again." He drew a breath, "I never told you because you locked yourself away from everything that reminded you of Titanic- of him and your brother- but now, now that so many years of passed, we are able to sit opposite each other and remember."

Emily cracked a bittersweet smile.

"While we lay there on the plank of wood, Francis told us that he was happy that he said he loved you. I think he was truly happy you were safe. He died a happy man, Emily."

Water leaked from the 97-year-old's eyes and she dabbed at them softly with her tissue.

"Arthur was also grateful you were safe. He told me on the boat, that you were his best friend, the one person he could rely on for everything. You were his rock."

"Alfred, please, stop, you don't have to do this." Emily begged.

"I do. I want you to be free from all the pain and suffering. I want you to know that because you were safe, they were happy. They died happy. They loved you. You and Arthur and Francis were my best friends. The day I met you was the best day of my life. I do not regret getting on that boat. Because of it, I met you three."

Emily lunged forward, with all her strength and encased her long-lost friend in a tearful hug.

After that they sat there by the windowsill and talked for hours, telling each other all about their lives, their hopes, their dreams.

That night, Alfred was given a spare room in the nursing home but he insisted that he sleep on an armchair in Emily's room. Both of them fell asleep, almost straight away, feeling peaceful and content.

* * *

Emily felt the morning sun blaring down on her from her window and grumpily wondered why the nurse hadn't shut the curtains. She stretched her limbs and froze as she felt absolutely no pain when she did so. She cracked open her eyes and looking to the armchair, she let out a scream.

Alfred jumped awake, falling off the chair and immediately sprung up. He froze then also as he thought about what he just did, where they were and what Emily looked like.

"We're…_young?"_

Emily sprung out of bed and began jumping around the room with Alfred. She quickly surveyed her surroundings. She knew exactly where they were. In her first-class bedroom aboard the RMS Titanic.

Emily and Alfred continued to jump around until they had a quiet chuckle from the doorway and looking up, they saw two men standing in the doorway, looking exactly like the last time they saw them.

80 years ago.

Both Emily and Alfred walked ever so slowly to the doorway, looking at the two men in wonder.

The one of the left, took the young girl's hand and kissed it softly.

"I kept my promise, ma Cheri. I promised we would see each other again."

"Francis…" Emily whispered, tracing her hands around his face, not quite believing what she was seeing.

_It was the love_.

The one of the right, threw Alfred a small smirk and said quietly,

"Trust you to come up with all that crap to my sister."

Alfred just smiled and pulled the man close.

"It's not crap, it's the truth."

The smirk on Arthur's face was replaced with a small smile.

"Thank-you." He said simply and Alfred sighed.

"I never told you that I love you, did I?"

Arthur laughed, "No not quite."

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-"

"Okay! Okay! I understand!" Arthur barked, rolling his eyes at the American.

"I love you too…I suppose…"

Alfred laughed and quickly closed the space between them and for the first time in 80 years, kissed the man he was in love with.

After a tearful reunion between Emily and Arthur and Alfred and Francis, everything seemed perfect.

The four companions, arm in arm stepped out onto the deck of the beautiful ship and smiling, they all looked up, taking in the dazzling sunlight. For the first time in 80 years, they all smiled together.

* * *

_D'awwwwwhhhh! So angsty but ended happy! They're all in heaven XD Hope you enjoyed! __**PLEASE REVIEW! I**__ really wanna know what people thought of this arc! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	17. Invisible

_Hello! Don't have much to say except thank you so much to everyone who has faved this, or put this story on alert or reviewed! You guys truly are as awesome as Prussia! Enjoy today's chapter!_

_Seventeen: Invisible_

* * *

_What is God's name has happened to me? _England thought, wanting to scream his head off as he looked down at himself and saw _nothing_. He was completely invisible!

_Am I dreaming? _He thought hesitantly before slapping himself in the face. Ow. No. Not asleep.

He suddenly heard commotion going on downstairs and remembered that he had Northern Ireland, France, America and Scotland over last night and they had stayed in his guest bedrooms, apart from America obviously.

Smirking, he creeped quietly down the stairs and rubbed his hands together gleefully. _This could be fun…_

Walking into the kitchen, he saw Northern Ireland and France sitting at the large table beside the window, both nursing a cup of coffee in their hands, looking pale and terribly hungover. Both were looking down at their mugs and so trying not to laugh, England tip-toed over to them and standing beside Northern Ireland, he brought his hand back and gave France a huge slap on the face.

"OWWW!" France cried, bringing his own hand to his face and rising from his chair, glaring down at the young nation beside him. "EMILY! THAT HURT!"

Northern Ireland looked at him like he was mad while England slumped against the window, in fits of silent laughter.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

France rubbed his cheek gingerly.

"Don't play dumb! That wasn't even funny! You hit me!"

Northern Ireland groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, like I wouldn't take credit for hitting you. Believe me, you would be on the ground if I hit you in the face. If I did hit you, I would have been happy to say it was me. But unfortunately I didn't so stop acting like a lunatic, okay?"

She hastily grabbed her mug and walked out of the room, France following her, shouting, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT MEANT TO MEAN? I CANNOT BELIEVE I PUT UP WITH YOU SOMETIMES, YOU CRAZY BITCH!"

England stood there, holding his stomach, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. After a moment he stopped and looked over to the cooker where Scotland and America were deep in discussion. He walked over quietly and started to listen to what they were saying.

"…look, all I'm trying to say is that he's a dick. Why do you put up with all of his bullshit? I usually just punch him and run away. Northern Ireland even ignores him when he's being a tool and Wales likes to throw sheep at him. It's hilarious." Scotland grinned and laughed. England narrowed his eyes on Scotland. _Oh I see. The topic of discussion is me. _

America shrugged slightly.

"Hey maybe you don't get to see a different side to him, but I do. And that's why I care about him so much." He smiled and England's glare faltered as he wanted to jump into America's arms and kiss the life out of him.

"And he's not _so_ bad. So, he can't cook and every time he gets into trouble, he comes running to me but why shouldn't he? I want to look after him. I think he'd kill me though if he knew our roles have kind of been reversed from when we first met."

Scotland nodded thoughtfully and England's glare resumed. _How dare he treat me like some lost child?! I can handle my own affairs by myself thank you very much!_

"If you're referring to the world wars, I should be kind of pissed at you. I mean, I'm part of the UK too and you're acting like you won the damn things single-handily. We were doing fine on our own."

England grinned, wanting to give Scotland a proud slap on the back.

"Like hell you were," America said laughing, "If it weren't for us, you'd be speaking German." Both Scotland and England scowled at the fair-haired nation who looked smugly at Scotland.

"Like it matters anyway, what's done is done and the past is where it belongs- in the past! I mean we all get on great with Germany and Italy now don't we?" America said, resting against the one of the counters.

"Yeah, I guess." Scotland agreed and then frowned. "Hey, speaking of the devil, where is England? He's been asleep for ages. Usually he's the first one up." America nodded.

"I know, when I woke up, he wasn't there. I thought he got up and went for a walk so maybe he'll be back any minute."

Suddenly the sound of crashing and angry voices could be heard from the living room and all three nations turned their heads to the noise.

"LOOK WHAT YOU DID NOW IDIOT! ENGLAND'S GOING TO RING YOUR NECK!"

"MOI?! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO JUMPED ACROSS THE TABLE TO GET ON TOP OF ME AND BROKE THE DAMN MUGS!"

"YOU TOLD ME TO! GOD, THAT'S IT FRANCE, BOYFRIEND, OR NOT, I'M GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS FROM HERE TO BLOODY PARIS!"

A loud screech was heard and England was half-laughing, half-fuming because Northern Ireland could easily do what she threatened but she did break his precious tea set and he would give her hell for it.

Scotland turned to America and said quickly, "I better go and break those two up before Northern Ireland ends up beating Francis to death!" He smiled at America and then ran into the living room.

Suddenly the clock chimed and it was exactly 12 o'clock in the afternoon. With a loud 'puff', England was surrounded by smoke and when he cleared again, he looked down and screamed.

He wasn't invisible anymore.

But was as naked as the day he was born.

America stared at him incredulously.

"What the _fuc-_?"

England grabbed a towel sitting on the counter. _Oh God, why me? America will NEVER let me live this down!_

"Don't look, don't look!" He cried, trying to cover himself as best he could.

America raised an eyebrow.

"It's not like I haven't seen any of it before England.'

England scowled at him.

"That's beside the point! _I'm naked!" _He stressed the last two words and America laughed.

"I noticed." He grinned as England growled at him. _Please, someone, anyone, let the ground open and swallow me up!_

America suddenly grabbed England's hand.

"Come on. Let's get you upstairs and into some clothes and you can explain to me how the hell you made yourself invisible."

England sighed and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Thank-you America. I really do love you."

America grinned as he began pulling his boyfriend up the stairs.

"Yeah I know. Love you too."

* * *

_Awwwww! Funny and cute! My favourite kind of story! __ Oh Northern Ireland and France- those two will never change- I won't let them! Hope you liked! Review if you can! Cheers LucyMoon1992 x_


	18. Reasons

_Bonjour peeps! Thanks to _**Amber Star 1114,** **Anne Fatalism Dilettante** _and_ **EmeraldHeart12 **_for reviewing! You guys are too awesome :) Anyway hope you enjoy today's entry!_

_Eighteen: Reasons._

* * *

"Because there are forty-six reasons I shouldn't!" England exclaimed in irritation, dragging a hand through his hair.

France raised an eyebrow and leaned back on his chair. "Forty-six?"

"Forty-six."

"You've counted?"

"Yes, I've counted."

After a long pause, France shook his head. "How much free time do you have, anyway?"

Rolling his eyes, England resorted to scowling out the window. "It's something I've had on my mind a lot lately, okay?"

"And you really came up with forty-six reasons?"

"Yes."

France whistled quietly. "That's a lot of reasons."

"I know."

"What kind of reasons, exactly?"

Sighing, England began to count off on his fingers. "He's too naive. There's too much competition. He's an idiot. We have yet to carry on a civil conversation since his independence. He's never had a boyfriend and wouldn't be prepared for… well, me. I don't have the time. He thinks I'm a tosser. I live halfway across the world from him. We don't have anything in common. He could have any nation he wants. My reputation would be shot. He—"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," France said, waving his hands for England to stop, which he did, lapsing them into a silence that contrasted sharply against the noise of the restaurant in Paris they were currently in. A moment later, France took a sip of his red wine, apparently in deep thought, then set it down and looked at his best friend. "What if I gave you one reason that you should do it, that was worth forty-six reasons on its own?"

England looked at him speculatively. "If such a reason existed, they would balance each other out and I'd be back to where I started."

France grinned. "Reason Number One: Because you love him, Angleterre."

England sank into his chair, muttering, "That's not a reason."

"It is! It's probably the best reason to do anything! _Mon Dieu,_ it should be worth forty-seven reasons, easy!"

Shrugging uncomfortably, England said, "Forty-five."

"Forty-six."

"Fine, forty-six, therefore it's a tie and doesn't matter anyway!"

France sighed. "So I just need to come up with one more reason for you to tell America that you love him and the scale will tip?"

England glared. "There are no other reasons."

"Sure there are," France said, winking. "Reason Number Two: Because he loves you back."

* * *

_D'awwwww. I like it when France and England can be civil with each other, I think of them like the best of friends. Hope you liked that cute one-shot! See ya tomorrow! Takk deg, LucyMoon1992 x_


	19. Phone Calls

_Hey! Thanks so so so SO much for the reviews guys! I love you! Enjoy this one!_

_Nineteen: Phone Calls._

* * *

England bounded into his house, absolutely soaked and fuming. He was meant to meet up with his youngest sibling to discuss different trading routes for the coming year and she had stood him up. _I'm going to ring her neck..._

Throwing down his umbrella, he marched over to the phone to ring her when he noticed the little red light in the corner of the phone flashing, indicating that he had some voicemail. He pressed it impatiently.

_You have five new messages. _

England groaned. _For God's sake…_

_First message, received this morning at 09.40am._

"_Hey England! It's me! I hope you haven't left yet cos I can't make it today! I've got…a….appointment with my….dentist! Yeah, so, really sorry but I'll make it up to you. Phone me back when you get this. Love ya!"_

England rolled his eyes. _Dentist? Sure…_

_Second message, received this morning at 09.55am._

"_Bonne matin, mon ami!" _England sighed, waiting for the onslaught of French. "_I have just rung to say that I apologise pour taking that small nation from your company this afternoon and I hope you won't be too lonely! Of course, you can ring up that handsome petit ami of yours and you can do something together non? Hon, hon, hon, hon! 'Ave fun! À bientôt!"_

England growled and pressed the delete button, gritting his teeth in irritation. _Filthy, wine-sucking, cheese-eating...if he even thinks of laying a hand on my little sister…_England shook his head to ignore those terrible thoughts and promptly moved onto the next voicemail.

_Third message, received this morning at 10.30am._

"_Jesus, France, can't you do anything right? No, stop it! Hehehe!" _

England smacked his hand to his head and frowned as the giggling and the '_hon, hon, hon'_ continued.

"_Fuck, it's on! Stop it!...Well baiiii! It's me again. Your little sister. Your little INNOCENT sister."_

At that England snorted and he could hear France laughing too.

_"Anyway, it seems you may or may not get a message from that idiot France _[England heard an indignant _'Quoi?!'_ which Northern Ireland decided to ignore] _that I won't be meeting you because I have a date with him. Lies! It's all lies! He fancies me and is trying to make you jeal-France- france, stop it! I'm still on the phon-"_

The message ended abruptly and England deleted it quickly, highly disturbed. Rubbing his temples slowly, he pressed the button again and perked up immediately upon hearing the voicemail's sender.

_Fourth message, received this afternoon at 12.05pm._

"_Hey England! I was just wondering if you wanted to go for lunch or something? Totally bored and want to get out of my house! I know you said you wanted to meet Northern Ireland and discuss important stuff with her but I'm outside Hyde Park right now and there's a girl here who looks extremely like her, kissing the life out of a guy who looks suspiciously like France. Anyway, ring me back when you get the chance!"_

England rolled his eyes slightly because of Northern Ireland and France but didn't care at that moment because America had phoned him. Smiling, he glanced at his watch, and noticed it was only ten to two and there was plenty of time to ring America back and go for some lunch with him. England reached for the telephone when he realised the red light was still flashing; he still had one message left to listen to. He sighed impatiently and pressed it.

_Fifth message, received this afternoon at 12.07pm._

_"Hey England, I forgot to mention the tiniest thing…"_

England could hear America pause before saying the sweetest thing in the whole world.

"_I love you."_

* * *

_Awwwww! __America is sooo cute! And Northern Ireland and France- what are they like?! Hahaha. Hope you liked and please review! LucyMoon1992 x_

_Author's Note: _

_**Meaning of words:**_

_**Bonne matin mon ami: Good morning my friend.**_

_**Petit ami: Boyfriend.**_

_**À bientôt: Talk soon.**_


	20. Time Capsule

_Hello! Valentine's day this thursday, maybe Hima might do a event? AND MAKE USUK CANON?! Lol! So anyway today's fic is from a doujinshi I watched and it was really cute so I decided to turn it into a FanFiction so unfortunately I don't own the idea __ But enjoy all the same!_

_Um, is it creepy if I told you guys I love you? Yeah? WELL IDC, I LOVE YOU GUYS, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT!_

_Twenty: Time-Capsule._

* * *

"Okay! So we'll give the note to England and ask him to give it to us when we've grown-up! Then, we can come back and see all the stuff we put in here, yeah?" Little America said, turning to his identical brother, Canada and grinned.

Canada nodded and they both picked up the large box in which they had put some of their prized possessions and chucked it into a hole they had made near the forest close to England's house. They buried it quickly and ran back; laughing about how cool it will be when they've grown-up to see all the amazing stuff they had placed in the box.

Bursting into the kitchen of England's house, they found the Briton chatting idly to a blonde-haired Frenchman, both who turned and smiled when they saw America and Canada.

Marching up to England, America produced a small brown envelope and shoved it into England's hands. England looked down at his little brother, amusement evident in his green eyes.

"And what's this America?" England asked, raising his eyebrows to the small nation.

"It's a letter, England, obviously! You are not allowed to open it but when me and Canada have grown-up you have to give it to us, okay?"

England looked to France, who had picked up Canada and was tickling him while he giggled incessantly. France simply shrugged so England took the letter and put it into his back pocket.

"Of course America." He then picked America up and sighed, "But now, its bedtime so let's get going, both you and Canada."

After a lot of complaining and arguing over who got to sleep on which side of the bed, both America and Canada drifted off into a peaceful sleep, leaving England and France to talk downstairs.

"I wonder what they'll be like when they're older..." England pondered aloud, scratching his head in thought.

"Who knows but I'm sure that Canada will be just as cute as he already is." France grinned, sticking his tongue out.

"Well, I'm also sure that America will be just as cute, if not cuter!" England barked back, glaring at the Frenchman and they began arguing, oblivious to the two little boys, peeking their heads around the kitchen door and laughing quietly at the scene in front of them.

* * *

_100 Years Later._

England was aimlessly browsing through his large collection of books when his eye caught sight of a small, wrinkled piece of paper sticking out of one of the books.

Taking it out, he gasped in surprise when he saw what is was.

_I wonder if they've grown-up now?_

England smiled, taking out his mobile-phone to ring America, Canada and France.

* * *

"We gave you this?" America, tall, strong and impossibly gorgeous said, tilting his head to one-side in confusion and pointing to the letter that England had handed to Canada moments prior.

"Yes, years ago, now shut up and open it!" England snapped impatiently.

Canada shrugged and tore up the envelope. He frowned upon open up the small letter.

"It looks like a map to a location, looks there's a big 'X', that must be where we need to go." He said, showing America the map.

America grinned and throwing his hand into the air, he exclaimed, "Everyone, follow the leader!"

After two hours of being out in the blistering cold (America, insisting his was going in the right direction and, of course, _wasn't,_ led them all a mile and a half in the other direction until his brother snatched the map of him and took control) the group of four finally made in back into England's living room, all seated around the long, coffee table, just staring at the mysterious box.

"Oh, for God's sake," England cried in exasperation, "just open the damn thing already!"

"Quiet England!" America shushed him and England glared, "We're building momentum!"

"That doesn't even…you know what? I'm just going to drink my tea." England sighed, slowly rubbing his temples. He was regretting inviting them over already.

Then slowly both America and Canada reached over at the same time and took the lid off the box. At the same time, all four of them all peered into the dusty, worn-out box.

And all four of them gasped in surprise.

"Oh cool, remember this? Our old toy set!"

"Awesome! My very first map of America!"

"Aww, how cute Canada, it is the ribbon from the first bag of sweets I bought you!"

"The silver tea set I thought I lost…it was here all along….AMERICA!"

America, completely oblivious to England's irked screams, was searching the box for anything else they had left out and was surprised when he found a small white envelope, with the words 'To America, From America' scrawled across the front of it.

_Just what did I write back then, I wonder…_

Tearing open the envelope, America grinned as he started reading,

_What's up future me? Have you become a hero yet?_

_You know what? I've decided to grow up as fast as I can!_

And then America's face changed to once of upmost horror.

_...In order to protect England, who I love the most! I've decided to become a HERO! The one I love most in the whole world is England!_

"America?"

America froze, and slowly turned around from his sitting position on the floor and gave England an uneasy grin, his face heating up so fast, he guessed he probably looked as bright as a ripe tomato.

Kneeling down in front of him, England frowned, face etched with concern.

"Are you ok? What's wrong?"

America immediately put the letter behind his back and started shaking his head vigorously.

"Nothing at all!" He squeaked, cursing his voice for going so high.

_If I remember right, even back then, I've always felt this way about him…_

"But your face is all red!" England persisted, "Do you have a fever?" England brought his hand up to America's forehead and he freaked, bolting up and sprinting from the room.

"America! Wait!" England called while behind him, France and Canada were snickering to themselves.

_Why did he run?_

"America!" England called again, and ran out of the living room after him.

France, turning to Canada, saw the letter in the Canadian's hands and asked, "Did you write a letter too, Mathieu?"

Looking down at his hands, he mumbled back, "Ah yes…but I didn't write it for myself." He took a breath, "I wrote it for France. Here you go." And handed it to the blonde-haired man in front of him.

"You wrote it for your big brother?" France muttered, amazed. He slowly opened it and began reading it aloud,

_Dear future France,_

_How are you? Every day my heart is filled with happiness. I love Al and England too, but the time I spend with you is my favourite._

_You always smell nice and when I'm hurt, you give me hugs. And even though it tickles, you give me lots of kisses on my cheek._

_I'm not very good with words, so it's hard to say but…_

_I love you France. I'm sure that even when I grow up, I'll still love you._

France and Canada finished reading, one was so embarrassed they wanted the ground to open and swallow them yp and the other, strangely serious for once.

"I know this is what you wrote in your letter," France said slowly, eyes fixed on Canada's face, "but do you really love me now like you did then?"

Canada, lips pursued, eyes darting around the room and fidgeting incessantly, mumbled, "W-well, right now…always…I've always loved you." He looked down at the ground but France swiftly took Canada's face in his hands and slowly pressed in his lips to his.

_So, please, allow me to stay by your side. Forever._

* * *

"America! Open up! Come on! Let me in!"

The constant banging on the door was hurting America's head and he just wanted England to leave him alone. Head in his hands and the letter carelessly thrown down beside him, he had locked himself in England's study and somehow England knew he would find him here.

_How could I have forgotten? How?_

"America, open this damn door, right now!" England growled out and America could tell he was getting pretty angry.

_Yeah right, like I could face you like this!_

On the other side of the door, England scowled.

_Is he really that sick? I wonder if…_

His thoughts trailed off as he noticed a small crumpled up piece of paper beside his foot and hesitantly picked it up and began reading it.

_This is the first love letter I ever wrote, _America thought sighing, resting his head against the door, _if England read it he would think it's a joke! _

America picked up the letter and then, eyes widening, he yelped.

_OH FUCK! THERE'S A PAGE MISSING!_

"Wait England!" America yelled, bursting open the door and flying into England, he crushed him against the wall opposite. _I thought he was a bit too quiet!_

"Please tell me you didn't…"

England looked up at the American; both of them flushed bright red and their breathing unsteady.

"Ahh…"

America's face darkened.

"You read it, _didn't you?"_

England scoffed slightly, "W-well what is _this? _Aren't you being a little too cute?"

America grabbed England's shoulders and shook him a few times, "Aren't you being a little too blunt? It's obviously a love letter!"

_L-love letter?_

Sighing, America straightened up and said clearly, looking directly into England's deep, green eyes, "I've felt this way ever since I was little. Then I realised that feeling was love so I wrote this letter." He ran a hand through his hair while England watched him, dumbstruck, "Even now, my feelings haven't changed at all."

He looked down at his feet, obviously uncomfortable and flustered about what he was saying, telling, _confessing _to England that he was in love with him.

"I mean….someday…I want…"

And grabbing England and encasing him in a hug, he declared softly, "I want you to accept me as the man I have become."

England gasped, "Y-you idiot! You- I mean- I, we-"

He quickly shoved America away from him and coughed slightly.

"We're, we're brothers and so-"

America, having absolutely none of it, took England by his shoulders again and roughly shoved him against wall.

"England."

Green eyes wearily looked to blue.

"Just give it up."

England glared.

"Give what-?"

"I love you. And you love me. And right now?"

America placed his hands by his sides and again and declared in a confident voice, "I won't take any objections!"

Still blushing like crazy, England growled out, "Fine! Have it your way!" And then quietly added, "Stupid idiot…"

America smiled tenderly and chuckled fondly at the embarrassed man in front of him, his own embarrassment fading away quickly to give room to the other emotion he couldn't believe he had suppressed for so long.

"Jeez…" America grinned, taking England's face and bringing it centimetres from his own. "Your _'l love you'_ was kinda difficult to understand."

And then feverishly pressed his lips to England's.

…

_I'll make sure England is always happy! _

* * *

_Aww! Even, I, who knew what was happening, couldn't help but grin at the end! Hope you liked! __Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	21. Valentine's Day

_Hey, hey! __Thanks to Guest for reviewing the last chapter! This one's for you!_

_Twenty-One: Valentine's Day_

* * *

It was a secret he would never tell a soul.

He could just imagine the look on France's face if he knew the truth. He could already hear the laughter ringing throughout the conference room. He knew that the confession would haunt him through life and follow him to an early grave. He would rather die than have a single person in the wide world know his true disposition on the matter.

It was such an overbearing, sinful pleasure that he often tried to convince even himself that it wasn't true.

So when America plonked himself down beside England at lunch-time and inched close to his shoulder and batted his lashes in England's direction and whispered in a sweetly conniving voice, "I know your secret," England thought for sure the world had ended.

He held his breath and stared back at the superpower, all pale and green eyes and thumping heart, and thought for sure the hanging hearts and pink steamers and plastic roses surrounding them were beginning to close in. He was suffocating in the sheer magnitude of Valentine's Day—and of America. Still smiling impishly. Still batting those lashes. Still unimaginably, _unfairly_ close.

He cleared his throat and tried to force himself to get up and _run _but his legs didn't budge.

"Wh—what are you talking about, git?" If it hadn't been for the stammering and sweating and wide-eyed deer in headlights look, he was sure it would have come off as quite smooth.

America's smirk grew and he cooed in that sultry voice he used when he was teasing, "About Valentine's Day."

How did he know? How did he know? How could he possibly know?

He'd been so nonchalant. So discreet. Not even France had a clue, and the frog was his best friend!

"V-Valentine's… Day?"

"Mmmhmmmm…" he drawled, relaxing his chin into the palm of his hand and tapping one finger idly against the side of his mouth. "So confess."

He zipped up his lips and shook his head. No way was that dazzling smile getting to him again. Not today. Not now. Not with something so important.

"Oh, come on." America paused and huffed, before his eyes began to twinkle ominously again. "I have a secret, too. If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

Oh, damn him. Must resist temptation. Must resist temptation. Must resist—

"Okay."

England cringed. What was he, suicidal?

America lowered his eyes to the table and seemed to be pondering something for a moment, before inhaling a slow breath and quietly murmuring, "I don't like Valentine's Day at all."

England had to force his jaw from dropping, but there was no stopping his eyes from bugging. "You what? But… but you've been so excited the last few weeks! Hell, you're wearing a jacket with hearts all over it."

He nodded whimsically, but did not smile. "It's true. I'm a fraud. I just figure it fits more with my character to act like I love the holiday, but I don't. Not really."

"Why not?"

Wringing his fingers, he answered, "I'm not sure. I used to really like it. But…I guess I just filled it up with too many dreams that never came true."

Lowering his gaze, England felt grimy and scummy and dreaded the next words out of America's mouth.

"Your turn, now. Confess."

He sighed, his shoulders drooping, and mumbled half-heartedly, "I love Valentine's Day."

There was a moment of the world closing in again, before a gentle nudge in his side urged him to look up, and America was smiling impishly again, and England was blushing.

"I know. You're really good at hiding it, but I could tell."

"Don't tell France, okay?"

He laughed. "I won't. But you have to tell me-why?"

He thought about it a moment, watching America's curious blue eyes on him, and chose his words carefully. "It's the only day of the year that I ever fill up with dreams."

America's smile turned dreamy. "Do they ever come true?"

And if it had been a film or a romance story, England would have kissed America while he was sitting there all lashes and bright, blue eyes and pink-hearted jackets. He considered it, even, briefly—his lips were still turned up, beckoningly, almost hopefully.

"No," he finally answered. "Not _yet._"

* * *

_God's sake man! Kiss him! Oh well, hope you liked that one guys! Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	22. Truth or Dare?

_Hi, hi first off thank you very, very much for the reviews of the last chapter! And secondly...well actually that's it! Just go on ahead and enjoy today's chapter :)_

_Twenty-Two: Truth or Dare?_

* * *

"This is a very, _very _bad idea."

England turned to his cousin and grimaced. The Canadian just shrugged and smiled, looking across the room at the object of their conversation.

"Ah, come on England, stop being such a spoilsport! I've never been to one of her parties before but truth or dare is just a bit of good old fashioned fun."

The Englishman snorted in derision, glazing his eyes over the girl whose party they were at.

"You don't know Northern Ireland like I do Canada; it may seem like butter wouldn't melt in that girl's mouth but she's the devil in disguise. Just you watch out, when this game starts you'll soon see."

Canada laughed.

"I highly doubt that. You just think that because you're her brother. It's only natural for you to think that she would be different to what everyone else actually thinks she's like."

England sighed heavily.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you…"

* * *

Over near the drinks table, the hostess was looking around the room, smiling sweetly at everyone she made eye contact with. She had dressed nicely for the event and was all toothy grins and batting eyelashes, but she was keeping up her little charade of cuteness for now. As soon as the game would start though, they would all be wishing the ground would open up and swallow them.

Dying for a drink but not taking one because, even though she didn't look over, her biggest brother was watching her from the far corner of the living room, she took the chance to run into the kitchen and take a large swig of vodka. She would have to remember to thank Russia for it later.

"I know what you're playing at, you know."

She choked and spluttered out the vodka over the clean table tops and turned towards the door. It was America.

"Hey America! What's up?" She smiled and he simply arched an eyebrow at her. Like hell is was going to fall for that. Like _hell. _

"Don't give me that cutesy crap Northern Ireland. I know why you're getting us to play truth or dare and you needn't bother. I'm not going to. No way, no how."

The smile was swiped off her face immediately and replaced with a deep frown.

"I'm not only playing that game because of _just_ that…I want to play it because I'll have an excuse to kiss France without England having a coronary." She grinned and America raised his eyebrows at her.

"Doesn't matter, cos I'm not playing. No way in hell."

Northern Ireland simply just glared at him then.

"For God's sake, why not? He likes you; you _certainly_ like him, what's the problem?"

"The problem is I don't need a stupid game to decide when I do or do not kiss him!"

The glare was immediately swapped with a smirk.

"Oh yeah?" She said, challengingly. If America wasn't so God damn idiotic, he would have realised, like anyone else with half a brain cell, that he was throwing himself straight in at the deep end.

"Yeah! And I'll prove it to you!" And he marched out of the kitchen, Northern Ireland following him, her eyes twinkling deviously.

* * *

England saw out of the corner of his eye, Northern Ireland sprinting into the kitchen and then he looked across the room to see America, asking Japan to hold his drink of him and followed her. He frowned. _Those two are always plotting something…_

Moments later, America came striding out of the kitchen, heading straight for him and Canada, Northern Ireland in tow, looking insane with delight. England smiled nervously.

'Why, hello Amer-'

His sentence was cut short as America grabbed England by his shirt was crashed his lips down onto his. He gasped and America immediately deepened the kiss.

After what seemed like forever, America drew back and grinned sheepishly at England. England opened and closed his mouth a few times and then frowned, going around America to look at his little sister.

"You dared him to do that, didn't you?" He felt kind of…disappointed and he didn't like this feeling of his heart beating wildly and his palms sweating. _Emotions and British people don't mix well. _Northern Ireland winked just before America turned England back around to him and grinning announced, "No, she didn't."

And once again he swiftly brought his lips down on England's.

* * *

_Awwwww again! Reviews would be lovely (: Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	23. Cooking

_Hey...majorly depressed, no one reviewed the last chapter :( But I'm putting this up because I want to complete this collection of stories._

_Twenty-Three: Cooking_

* * *

"Um…Yum?"

England threw his fork down on the plate and scowled at the man opposite him. The other man, in turn, starting laughing.

"I'm sorry England, but do you really expect me to eat this? What were you attempting to do? Produce food to my standard?" The Frenchman before him scoffed but on noticing the look on England's face, stifled his laughter and said 'Angleterre, just face it, there may be many things you are good at but cooking is not of them."

The Englishman sighed in defeat and nodded, "I tried to _so _hard this time! I actually thought I had got it right for once…"

Before France could say anything else, he raised his eyebrows in amusement as America swooped in and presses his lips to England's quickly. He then looked up at France, glaring and said fiercely, "It was perfect. Shut the hell up Frog."

England blushed as America grinned at him and walked out of the room. Raising his eyes smugly to look at France he said, "Ha"

France shrugged and started to laugh again.

"Yes, because the American knows so much about culinary arts; he's just as bad as you are when it comes to cooking!"

England rolled his eyes but smiled as he noticed that the third plate on the table looked like it had been licked clean.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! LucyMoon1992 x_


	24. Drunk

_Hey, hey! Thanks for all the reviews, I just might die of happiness! __Anywho, without further ado, I present day's chapter! Enjoy!_

_Twenty-Four: Drunk_

* * *

England has always liked the music his country makes. He can actually feel the pain or happiness or jealously or any emotion that goes into his artists songs. It's kind of annoying actually because whatever he feels usually puts his country into that mood. So if he listens to a sad song, everyone feels horrible or if he listens to a song that makes him happy, everyone is cheery and all smiles and _that _is just as annoying.

Currently, he just adores Ed Sheeran's songs; their catchy, unpredictable, and he likes to sing along to them when no one can hear him. But they're also immensely sad. And one of his songs has been blasting through the house for a week straight now.

_I wanna be drunk when I wake up,_

_On the right side of the wrong bed,_

_And never an excuse that I made up,_

_Tell you the truth that it weren't,_

_Didn't kill me, yeah it never made me stronger at all,_

His fingers tap the side of his glass as he gazes over an important letter from a former colony and he reads it carelessly, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music. He knows he shouldn't be working and drinking at the same time so he throws the letter on the coffee table in front of his sofa and sits back and listens, eyes closed, expression unreadable.

_Love will scare your makeup,_

_Lip sticks to me and make me lean back here, _

_I'm sat here, wishing I was sober,_

_And no I'll never hold you like I used to_

A memory of a small, beautiful blonde-haired boy running to him, his eyes wide and a massive grin that could light up the whole world etched on his face, flashes through England's mind and he winces.

_No. He will not think of _him _today._

England is vaguely aware he's being watched but simply frowns and turns his head to the right, to the direction of the large glass windows that take up the whole back wall of his living room. The sofa that sits to the left of the one England is currently sits on, has a man and a young woman sitting on it. One holds a glass of wine, his eyes never leaving England's face and the other holds a small glass of Harp (its a beer from Northern Ireland!), her eyes flickering between the man who sits beside her and the man sitting across from her. She frowns.

"It's just getting worse." She whispers to the man beside her and he says nothing, only taking a sip from his drink and then carefully setting it down on the coffee table.

_But the house gets cold when you cut the heating,_

_Without you to hold i'll be freezing,_

_Can't rely on the heart-a-beating,_

_Cause you take part of it every evening,_

_Take words out of my mouth just from breathing,_

_Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me?'_

_Should I, Should I,_

"Maybe I'll get drunk again," England mumbles, and he knows he's being listened to but sings anyway, the dull ache that had entered his chest subsides somewhat when he lets his emotions out through singing, 'I'll be drunk, again, I'll be drunk, again. To feel a little_ love_.' He speaks the last word and suddenly glares at his drink and downs it in one. The taste burns his throat but he shakes his head slightly, barking at his sister to get him another one. A flash of annoyance graces Northern Ireland's features but she does as asked and snatches the glass from England's fingers, earning a scowl from him before she saunters out of the room and into the kitchen.

_I wanna hold your heart in both hands,_

_And watch it fizzle at the bottom of a coke can,_

_And I've got no plans for the weekend,_

_So should we speak then? Keep it between friends?_

_No I know you'll never love me, like you used to_

Just as the lyrics are sung, another memory flashes through his head; he's looking down at his little brother who looks confused and asks him timidly, 'Do you love me, England?' And England is surprised and answers almost immediately, 'Isn't it obvious? Of course I do!'

England winces again because he knows he still feels the same. That is, he used the love him as a brother and ever since _that day _(another wince as that memory is still raw and fresh, despite how many years have passed), that love has changed to something _else._ He hides behind countless insults and jibes so that no one will know the truth. When the ironic fact is everyone knows except for _him._

_And maybe other people like us,_

_Will see the flicker of the clipper when they light us,_

_Flames just create us, burns don't heal like before_

_You don't hold me anymore_

The man sitting opposite England sighs, running a hand through his blonde locks.

"Mon Dieu, England, this has to stop." The words are said as calmly as ever but England responds as if he's being attacked, glaring at the floor and refusing to meet his gaze.

"What has to stop?" He drawls out, fingers rapping against his knees because he doesn't have anything to hold. _Where the hell is Emily?_

"This! Getting drunk all the time, ranting on and listening to songs like this over and over again. I know this happens every few decades and goes on for a few weeks but Angleterre,' He stands up and looms over his friend and now, is looking directly at him, 'it's been _two _months. Please. Just go back the way you usually are. Insult me! Refuse your sister from seeing me! Anything..." He sits down beside England and places a hand on his shoulder, "Just _forget him."_

_On cold days cold plays out like the band's name_

_I know I can't heal things with a handshake_

_You know I can change, as I began saying_

_You cut me wide open like..._

_Open bottles of beer but never champagne_

_I'm hear to applaud you with the sound that my hands make_

England strangely understands where France is coming from but he knows and so does France that for some reason and he doesn't know why, this one has gone on longer than the others because he just_ can't_ bring himself to forget. He can't bring himself to forget that what he feels is completely and totally unrequited. He can't bring himself to forget that he's nothing but a friend. He can't bring himself to forget that no one loves him. Not like they did before.

_Should I? Should I?_

_Maybe I'll get drunk, again_

_I'll be drunk; again, I'll be drunk, again_

_To feel a little love_

"I can't." He chokes out and the nation sighs, standing up to move back to his seat when Northern Ireland enters again. And she's not alone.

England looks up and he freezes, he doesn't blink nor breathe for fear that he's just imagining things. Things that happen to be six feet tall with blonde hair and blue eyes. Eyes that are staring directly at England and he feels all choked up, and he wants to get up and run to him. But he doesn't. He doesn't move a muscle.

"Go on."

The words are soft and sound like tinkling bells rustling in the wind and he knows only this sister talks like that. He shifts his gaze quickly to Northern Ireland to see she's looking at _him. _Go on? Go on what?

England gasps as he bounds towards him, throwing himself on the sofa and encasing England in a hug. A hug so tender and full of that emotion that only England thinks he has, that England wipes away the liquid that has sprung from his eyes unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words, so thick with other unsaid words and England doesn't think, he just acts on impulse and says it. Says the words his needs to say.

"I love you America."

America stiffens and England regrets the words almost immediately. He draws back and it feels like they are in a little world of their own, unaware of the two pairs of eyes fixed on the both of them in fascination.

"I know you do. But I don't want another brother-"

"No." England's voice is calm and he decides that because he has already confessed, he may as well tell the whole truth, "I _love_ you."

America seems to understand as he smiles, and again England wipes away the liquid that is trailing down his cheeks because the smile America gives him is the same as the one he used to receive when America was younger.

"Same." He states and England must look unimpressed because he mumbles after, "I mean, I love you too."

America leans forward and he captures England's lips in a quick kiss that makes England feel like he's on cloud nine. But that's all it is- a quick kiss. Because he hasn't forgotten they're being watched. America looks disappointed when England draws away but England nods his head behind him and America turns and grins sheepishly.

"Oh."

England stands up and looks at his best friend who gives him a happy smile and then England turns to his sister and he plans to hug her and say a few sentimental words about how much he loves her. But, of course, she ruins it.

"OH ENGLAND! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!" She bounces over to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Aren't I amazing? I was so sick of you acting so damn depressed and I knew America was, like, totally in love with you so voilà!" She grabs America and plants one on his cheek too and he swats at her; embarrassed and annoyed.

"Anyway, France and I have to go…somewhere…" She giggles and grabs her boyfriend and as she's walking out she calls out, "you two have fun now!"

And they're gone.

America grabs England quickly and kisses him but England pulls away, eyebrows raised, his features amused.

"What?" America questions.

"Window." England says simply and even though he has his back to it, he turns around and finds Northern Ireland and France peering in, laughing. Northern Ireland jumps and England hears a muffled, "Shit! Run!" And they bolt.

America laughs, looking back at England.

"Seriously England, your friends and family are something else."

England glares at him and grabs his hand.

"Let's go upstairs."

America grins and says as they're walking up the stairs, "Are you sure you don't have a ladder or something outside so Emily could climb up and look through your window?"

England laughs.

"God, I hope not."

* * *

_Awwww! I was going to make it angsty but I decided nah! I love me some fluff! So hope you liked! __Cheers LucyMoon1992 x _


	25. Weddings

_Hey guys! A big massive thank-you to **Anne Fatalism Dilettante, GoldandScarlet, Amber Star 1114, 15gummybears** and **guest** for reviewing! You are awesome :) Anyway enjoy today's chapter, this one is for you guys!_

_Day Eighteen: Weddings._

* * *

_The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is cordially invited_

England sat on his couch for the whole weekend, staring into space. Not going out the door once. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep; he just sat there. Doing nothing. Just staring.

Now, apart from England himself, the only people who could get into the grounds of his house where the members of his family.

Over the weekend, he had heard both Scotland and Wales knocking on his door, asking if they could come in; he knew that they knew he was there and he knew that they could open the door and let themselves in but neither _really _wanted to. They didn't want to talk about it. They only reason they came round was so they could feel like they were doing the 'brotherly' thing and looking out of England. But no. They couldn't. They had no idea what to say to the seemingly ice-cold man.

So they sent in their sister.

_To the marriage of_

England knew they would do this. Northern Ireland was England's only sister and youngest of the United Kingdom Four, only 92 years old in country years, and 17 in human years. But this girl had been through hell and back again and so England not only cared for her momentously, but also had a great deal of respect for the small nation.

He heard her marching up the driveway on the Sunday morning, bursting through front door and heading straight into the living room. He didn't even look up or move a muscle when she bounded over to him and encased him in a large hug. He just sat there. Doing nothing. Just staring.

Then, without warning, Northern Ireland brought her hand back and slapped England right across the face. He jerked backwards and then, as if he had been asleep for a very long time, gazed up at Northern Ireland, feeling dazed and confused.

"Emily?"

The brown-haired girl felt tears in her eyes as she looked down on her big brother. She grabbed him, hauling him up so he was standing and gave him another hug. She drew back and studied him while he stretched.

"What are you doing here?" He yawned and Northern Ireland sighed at him.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?! Scotland, Wales and I have been worried sick, England! You haven't been out of this house for the whole weekend!"

He scoffed.

"What are you talking about? It's Thursday!"

Northern Ireland frowned at him.

"What? No it's not, its Sunday! Today's the wedding."

Immediately she regretted her words. She had planned to ease him into this easily. She kind of guessed that his whole body and mind would reject today and so wasn't entirely surprised when he thought it was Thursday, the day before the invitations had been sent out.

She was dressed to go to the 'joyous' event, wearing a dark blue dress that fell to her knees; simple but elegant. She needed to get England moving.

_He _would realise immediately if Enlgand didn't show.

The reason being; England was asked to be best man.

FLASHBACK.

"_He asked you to be _what?!_" Scotland cried, gaping at his brother, "That insensitive bastard! Wales, let's go and have a little chat with the world's favourite idiot."_

_England said nothing but Northern Ireland grabbed her brother and yanked him back down onto England's sofa and shook her head._

"_No," She said quietly, "don't make things worse. He doesn't know, Scotland. He doesn't realise. He's completely oblivious."_

_The Scotsman snorted in disdain._

"_Like hell he doesn't! All this crap about the UK and the US having a 'special relationship'; my bloody arse! America doesn't give a flying fuck about Eng-" Scotland stopped immediately when England simply put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. Northern Ireland glared at Scotland._

"_Idiot." She spat, smacking Scotland around the head and got up and kneeled down beside England, who was hiding his face. She gently took his hands away and smiled sadly at him._

"_England, don't do this to yourself. And ignore what Scotland said. As for me, I honestly don't know what to tell you. It's a complete shock. You heard France earlier, he, being the nation of love and all, was so sure that America loved-"_

"_Well he was wrong." England spat, pushing Northern Ireland out of the way and charging out of the room and ran upstairs. Scotland and Wales went to follow him but Northern Ireland stopped them._

"_Don't." She whispered, "He needs to be alone. We can't comfort him. Not through something like this. Let's go."_

END OF FLASHBACK

Northern Ireland realised she wasn't getting anywhere with him as he sat there, numbly, thinking about how he wanted the world to end.

"England you need to do something. You can't just _not go. _The wedding is in an hour! Ring in sick; tell France or Canada to take your place; anything! Just don't leave it like this. You will ruin your friendship with him forever!"

At that England's head snapped up and he glared at his sister.

_The United States of America and_

"What the fuck does it matter anyway, Emily? I won't ever want to be friends with him again after this. Don't get me wrong, my government can go and fuck about with his for all I care, but you tell them that there is no way in hell I am ever seeing him again."

Northern Ireland growled at England, now just as equally angry.

"Don't give me that shite England! Don't you dare lie to me and say you never want to see him again. You love him! And if you love somebody, you do what's best for them. And he's your closest friend. You can't do this to him- not on his wedding day."

England squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

"He did this to me Emily. He has reduced me to nothing. And he doesn't even realise. How can I go in there and pretend to be happy for him? How can I look at _her,_ silently screaming I would do anything to be in her shoes? How can I look him in the eyes and not tell him that I'm broken inside?"

_The United Mexican States_

The two siblings stared at each other, one feeling so much empathy, she was fit to burst, the other in pain-staking heartache. Northern Ireland sighed.

_On Sunday the 21__st__ November, at 2.30pm in St. Pauls Church and afterward the Fitzwilliam Hotel._

"France is already there. I'll ring him and tell him to stand in for you, tell him to tell America that you have the cold or something.'

England said nothing but sat back down on the sofa and pulled his knees up to his chest and stared out of the window.

Just as Northern Ireland got out her phone, it started ringing, France's name flashing up on it. She quickly answered.

"Oui?"

"Northern Ireland, thank God you have answered!"

He sounded almost hysterical. Northern Ireland's heart started beating twice as fast.

"France, what's wrong?"

"The bride has done a runner!"

Northern Ireland's jaw dropped.

"She _what?"_

"Yes! She told America in front of everyone that he didn't even realise what has been in front of him all this time and that he must go and get it! She told him that he wasn't really in love with her when he has been completely head-over-heels in love with someone else for years. She wasn't angry at him but she said that what he needed right now was his _best man."_

Northern Ireland's jaw dropped further.

"Oh my God. And then what happened?"

"She ran. America ran out after her and I after him but he didn't catch her. I told him that what Mexico had said was right and he just looked confused. He's a complete wreck. He needs Engand. Badly."

"Got it." Northern Ireland nodded, and hung up. She turned on her heel and walked up to England and grabbed him, making him stand again.

"England."

He looked up at her stern face, etched with worry.

"Mexico called it off."

England's eyes widened and the air in his lungs got caught in his throat.

"America needs you. Now."

And England ran.

_TBC..._

* * *

_Cliffhanger! Review if you can and cheers! LucyMoon1992 x_


	26. Weddings The aftermath

_Hey everyone! __Thank you ALL so much for the reviews, I got 10 yesterday! So merci beaucoup!_

_Anyway, just sit back, relax and enjoy!_

_Twenty-Six: Weddings; The aftermath_

* * *

Mexico stood and stared at him for what seemed like a century and then, in sudden uproar, grabbed the ends of her dress and ran down the aisle. Guests from each side of the church stood up in amazement and started shouting and screaming.

America, dazed, took one look at her retreating figure and sprinted after her. _I'm not going to let her get away that easily…what crap was she talking about? I'm in love with someone else? I've never cheated! Not once! I love her too god-damn much!_

"Mexico please!" He yelled as he punched open the church doors and looked frantically around him but saw no trace of her.

He couldn't believe it. He felt numb. _Fuck, this really, really hurts…_

Loud footsteps behind him, slowed down as they neared him and America knew who it was already. He didn't want to see anyone at the moment.

"Tell the people to go out the back entrance and make their way to the reception. It's all laid out; they may as well enjoy it." America's voice cracked and the man behind him sighed.

"Amerique, I know that all you want to do is let the ground swallow you up right now because the pain in your heart is so strong, you feel you might actually die but you should know what Mexico said is right; you are in love with someone else. And they are right in front of you. All you need to do is open your eyes."

America frowned and turned to his replacement best man.

"I am _not _in love with anybody else! I love Maria! Always have!" He ground his teeth together and he felt his eyes starting to form moisture. _I will not cry._

"America please, listen to me and her. She even realised before it was too late; maybe she knew she couldn't live with someone who was so desperately in love with someone else."

America shook his head back and forth.

"But who-?"

France smiled sadly.

"Go and find them."

America didn't understand and France was being so damn mysterious. He needed someone to tell him that he was going to be alright, that everything would work out for the best.

Suddenly his head snapped up.

"I need England."

France blinked at him.

"Sorry?"

America cursed under his breath. _Damit to hell! He had to act strong! Like he was the hero! No matter how much he wanted his best friend's comfort, he had to show the world, show himself, show _her, _that he could pull through his on his own._

"Just forget it!" He cried and ran off in the direction of the town's park.

France did not follow him. He got his phone out and called his girlfriend.

"Northern Ireland, thank God you have answered!"

* * *

It was raining.

Figures.

When did it ever stop raining when something awful was happening?

England was looking all around him for some trace of a tux-clad man but to no avail. He felt cold and wet and just plain tired but knew he couldn't give up. America needed him. And when America needed him, England would walk on water to get to him.

Rushing into the town's scenic park, he finally stopped, gasping for air and putting his hands on his thighs, panting heavily.

"You ever notice how things like flowers are beautiful, even in the rain?"

England froze. His eyes widened and he ever so slowly spun on his heel to face the direction of the voice.

America was sitting on a park bench, trenched and staring fixatedly at a bush of yellow roses.

England knew not to say anything about the wedding and just let America bring him into the topic. He shrugged.

"I guess." England knew that to play this little small-talk with America was necessary; he was too fragile right now to go straight into talk about his already failed marriage.

"Maria was beautiful in the rain."

England felt like he'd been punched in the gut but was very good at concealing what he felt; he'd had plenty of practice. The Brit didn't know how to reply and so quietly asked, "Why did she run?"

England felt kinda stupid. He should have let Emily fill him in on what happened instead and running out the door like a madman.

America continued to look at the flowers.

"She said I was in love with someone else; in love with them more than I was with her."

England's breath caught in his throat and his head felt suddenly dizzy. He needed, wanted something to support him but he didn't move a muscle in case what he had just heard was some brittle illusion that would vanish from his thoughts at the slightest trace of movement.

"Who?"

"She didn't tell me. She said that whoever it was and right in front of me and all I had to do and go and get them." England saw America frown. "I don't understand! I loved her! How could she do this to me?" He wasn't asking England but really just talking to himself. England decided to answer.

"America, listen to me. If she has told you what you told me then it's pretty simple. You either find this person or you don't. Either way, it's Mexico's loss. You are brilliant and perfect in every way. She's a fool."

America's mouth opened but no sound came out. When he looked up to face England, he could see England standing there, sun silhouetting his body, grass brushing against his ankles, brown suit on, hand stretched out, smiling so tenderly down at America.

_Let's go home…_

_How? How could I have not noticed it before? After all this time? How could I have not known what my own heart was trying to tell me?_

_England._

_England._

_I love him._

_I really love him._

America, the realisation shaking him to his very core, looked again and saw England standing in the rain, a sad smile on his face, looking at America like….

Like…

Like he loved him.

"It was _you_."

The words are barely above a whisper but England heard them alright and his eyes widened as he looked at America.

"It was you all along. How could I have not seen it until now? How can I have been so stupid? How…how could I have not realised that I love you?"

England gasped as America stood up and grabbed him, pulling him into a kiss. It's sweet but full of unsaid words over the past few years. Pent up frustrations and new-found revelations all packed into one kiss.

America pulled back as blue eyes stared into emerald.

"Come on."

England said, taking America's hand.

"Let's go home."

* * *

_Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! So there you have it! Happy ending! Couldn't make it sad, just couldn't! Thanks and please review! Cheers LucyMoon1992 x _


	27. Glasses

_Hello! I am **so** busy but I still find time to update for you lovely people because your reviews make me smile; a smile so bright it woud blind you. Honestly, America has got nothing on this. ;)_

_Many, many thanks to those who reviewed last chapter even though I hadn't updated in two days. You guys are simply amazing. Thank-you!_

_Twenty Seven: Glasses_

* * *

"You aren't going to believe this!" Hungary squealed as she plopped down in the seat next to America, waving a magazine in one hand.

"Wome beweave wuh?" America mumbled through a mouthful of hamburger, hardly pausing in his crusade to down his lunch as quickly as humanly possible.

"I bought the Hetalia Academy magazine yesterday and was flipping through it and—" Hungary paused for dramatic effect, but America hardly seemed to be listening. "-America, this is important!"

"Sho are burgers."

Snarling, Hungary flipped open the magazine and slammed it down on the table. America took one look at the full-colour spread and gagged, choked, and spewed his un-chewed burger onto the table. Hungary grimaced.

"What is_ he_ doing there?"

"I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he'd done some modelling before. Remember yesterday you were insulting his public because he hardly has any good-looking models? Well, maybe his people aren't the best looking but wow; doesn't he look gorgeous?"

America flushed angrily. "Great! Now he's even haunting my reading material. That man is a plague!"

"Maybe, but that is one sexy plague."

America scrunched up his nose in disgust, but Hungary was too busy ogling the picture of England to notice, silently appreciating the way faded jeans made him look casually hip while a black blazer gave him a hint of sophistication, but mostly how it was unbuttoned to reveal a perfectly sculpted, shirtless torso.

"How can you even think that about him? He's the most douchy, self-righteous dick on this planet! And seriously. _Dude_. His eyebrows are totally huge." To prove his point, America seized a pen from his suitcase and yanked the magazine from beneath Hungary's attentive stare.

"Hey! Give it back! That's the most drool-worthy picture I've seen in weeks!"

"Absolutely not! I will not have you drooling over that jerk!" America said, and quickly scribbled a pair of thick, square-rimmed glasses onto England's face before handing it back with flare.

Hungary grabbed the magazine away and looked at the altered image—blinked, frowned, and cocked her head to one side. "That's odd. You know, I think he looks even better that way."

"_What?_ You're crazy!" America said, peering over his friend's shoulder in adamant disbelief.

His pride quickly sank and he sat back, sulking.

He hated when Hungary was right.

* * *

_Ha-ha! Haven't had Hungary in this fic so I thought if anyone would be appreciative of something like a picture of England, it would be her! Hope you liked! Merci, LucyMoon1992 x_


	28. Crush

_Hello! Not much to say, I may or may not be slightly hung-over XD _

_Thank-you so much for your reviews guys, they really mean the world to me. Enjoy today's entry!_

_Twenty-Eight: Crush_

* * *

Auburn eyes locked onto green and a staring match ensued between the two. The other pair of eyes, a melted-chocolate brown, shuffled nervously back and forth, wondering how exactly they managed to get themselves into these situations.

Wanting to break the extremely awkward silence which had clouded the outside table in the late English summer twilight, the brown-haired girl grinned before saying brightly, "So, the economy, huh? Kind of sucks doesn't it?"

The flame-haired girl who looked scarily like the other female at the table glared at her.

"Hmph. Don't even start…" She muttered, picking up her Guinness and taking a huge gulp, the faintest of smiles gracing her handsome features as she tasted its creamy texture.

The Englishman who was sitting with them, tried (and failed) to conceal a snort of derision.

"Yes, I suppose my economy is pretty much in the gutter too. But at least _I_ didn't have to get a bailout…" He trailed off, eyes twinkling, mouth twisted into an infuriating smirk.

"England…" The brunette pleaded, her soft Northern Irish accent becoming desperate. _God,_ she thought exasperated, _I shouldn't have even started talking._

The other girl choked on her drink and let out a low, dangerous growl.

"Why you _cheeky_ little-"

"HEY EVERYONE, HOW'S IT GOING?!"

The island nation known as England let out a short sign of annoyance. Now, never one to regret the seeing of his extremely good-looking boyfriend, he was still pretty angry because he was positively _itching _for a fight with his ex-sister, the beautiful but slightly mad Eily, otherwise known as the Republic of Ireland.

Giving a slight sniff of disdain, Ireland gave a curt nod to the newcomer while her sister simply winked at him.

'Evening America.'

America blinked, his face flushing a faint pink and he dropped his eyes to the floor.

Unbeknownst to the group of three, America always had a little crush on Ireland. She was just so _unique_. He knew his boyfriend would murder him if he ever found but so far America had been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing. Not only because he would be killed by England but his sister, quite possibly the most mischievous nation in the world would _never _let him live it down and since she and Ireland looked so alike, Northern Ireland would assume he would want to jump into bed with her too. A notion, America was sure of, she would be only too happy to oblige to.

Unfortunately for the great superpower, earlier that day that damn Commie, Russia, had challenged him to a 'how many vodka shots can you down in a minute?' game and so was really, very, _very _pissed.

Northern Ireland gave a small giggle and whispered to her brother.

"Your boyfriend _reeks_ of booze. God knows what little secrets would pour out of that brain of his, given an ounce of encouragement."

England glowered at his sister, giving her a don't-you-dare look and turned in his chair, smiling.

"Hello America." He opened his arms to get a welcoming hug but instead America crashed into him, jumping onto his lap and eagerly pressed his lips to his.

Northern Ireland grinned and gave her sister a wink, who, in turn, couldn't help but find the situation quite humorous.

"Geez, get a damn room." Emily muttered, after taking a sip of her red wine.

England, who had been in a state of shock, suddenly became animated and gave the American on his lap a hard shove so that he drew back, dazed and confused.

"America! Not in front of certain…company!"

America just laughed, throwing his head back but keeping his arms latched around England's shoulders.

"Awk, come on England, it's not like they're all innocent and stuff."

Ireland gave a quiet cough and shot her sister an incredulous look. Northern Ireland? _Innocent? _Oh look! A flying pig!

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" England demanded, looking at Emily now, who had suddenly become very interested with a rose bush in England's garden.

"Well let's just say if you went into Northern Ireland's closet, you wouldn't find just _her_ clothes." He smirked at England and England blushed, turning his face to Emily.

"Northern Ireland? What _is _he talking about?"

"Oh come on, England! Are you seriously suggesting that the way France and I get on is no more than playful banter? How many times have you seen him and I in the position you are currently in with America and never said a word?" She made a slight tsking sound, "And to think they say America is oblivious to everything that goes on around him..."

"Hey!" America barked indignantly, "I'm totally good at sensing the mood and stuff; something a hero needs to be awesome at!"

Northern Ireland snorted.

"Yeah right Yankee. Just how long exactly did it take you to figure out that it was _England_ who was sending all the love-letters, chocolates, flowers etc.?"

"It's not my fault that England was being so mysterious. If he had just come up to me and said, "Hey America, don't know if ya noticed but I'm kinda in love with you, fancy going for some dinner?" then that would have be brilliant. Sorry if him leaving soppy sonnets on my desk at world conferences confuses me a little."

England sniffed, looking slightly hurt, "I apologise for being a traditionalist America. Where I'm from, one must flatter their loved one first if they want their feelings reciprocated."

"_Anyway_," Northern Ireland interjected, eyeing up her brother's boyfriend, "I kind of understand America. I mean, I would be confused about getting love letters from someone else when I was crushing on a different person, you know?"

America stiffened and both England and Ireland turned to their sister.

"Meaning?" England asked, confused.

"Oh, you know the way America fancies Ireland."

Ireland choked on her drink for the second time that evening and gave her sister a disapproving look.

"Emily, you shouldn't make things up like that! Have some consideration for your brother."

England shocked, gazed at Eily.

"That is possibly the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Ireland stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't get used to it."

England rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Northern Ireland.

"Emily, stop making up blatant lies to start an argument for your own entertainment. God's knows you do it enough times with France and me."

Northern Ireland seemed offended as she squawked out, "I'm not lying! Look, it's written all over his face! America, go ahead and try to deny that you don't like Ireland."

America still situated on England lap gulped and stood up.

"Um…"

"America?"

England looked up at him, not quite understanding the situation. America winced, his drunkenness not making him brave enough to either try and deny that he didn't like Eily (even if it was only a _little _crush!) or admit it and get his comeuppance.

Giving Northern Ireland his best 'I'm so going to kill you when I'm sober' look, to which she just raised an eyebrow in mockery, he turned on his heel and bolted.

…

Northern Ireland stood up as she watched him flee through England's front gates and bellowed, "COWARD!"

Sitting back down, she was greeted by a glare from her two siblings.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"Nice going, idiot." Ireland spat and turned to England and gave him her best apologetic look without looking sarcastic. She hated being nice to him but she _did _feel a little sorry for the guy.

England simply shook his head at Ireland as if to say it wasn't her fault. He did, however, glower at his sister.

"You should just shut your face the next time you notice things like that."

"Wait, you're not angry at him?"

England scoffed.

"Angry?" He laughed dryly, "I'm fucking furious, Emily."

Northern Ireland smiled in spite of herself.

"So I assume the next world conference is going to be interesting then?"

England downed his drink and narrowed his eyes.

"You assume correctly."

* * *

_Poor, drunken America! Can't get a break! Hope you liked!__ Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	29. Happy

_So hey! I was listening to Leona Lewis's song 'Happy' and I came up with this songfic. It's depressing but you can't always have unicorns and rainbows now can you?_

_Thank you so much to **Amber Star 1114** and **Anne Fatalism Dilettante** who have both been reviewing every chapter! You guys are golden XD_

_Twenty-Nine: Happy_

* * *

_Someone once told me that you have to choose_

_What you win or lose_

_You can't have everything_

I walk aimlessly through hallways of the G8 conference building, being held in London. I like walking about here. I know I won't find anything new because I've been around this building countless times but I don't mind. We agreed to have an hour break and I wanted- no _needed _to get away. Away from them. Away from _him._

I don't need nor care to think about feelings. They're a nuisance and even though I can't escape them, it doesn't mean I like them. Makes no different to me if I'm alone. I've got tonnes of friends and a great bunch of people as my public. I wanted it this way; I fought so hard to stand on my own two feet so why should I care about feelings?

_Don't you take chances_

_Might feel the pain_

_Don't you love in vain_

_Cause love won't set you free_

If you want something you go for it. No matter what the cost. There was no point in me staying. Remaining to be with him meant I wouldn't have got what I always wanted. I wanted to be seen as one of them. An equal. To all of them. To _him. _

_I can't stand by the side_

_And watch this life pass me by_

_So unhappy_

_But safe as could be_

I could have just let it continue the way it always was, and I know he still wishes it were like that, even though he'd firmly deny it if asked, but I couldn't let that happen. Not feeling what I felt. I guess that's why I don't like feelings so much. Because they start out as a little nagging in the back of your head and turn into a full-blown headache, so powerful and painful you can barely stop yourself from breaking down from the ache in your chest. But in other ways they made me realise what I wanted. I could have avoided those feelings and ignored them. But I didn't. I just wanted some contentment.

_So what if it hurts me?_

_So what if I break down?_

_So what if this world just throws me off the edge_

_My feet run out of ground_

_I gotta find my place_

_I wanna hear my sound_

_Don't care about all the pain in front of me_

_Cause I'm just trying to be happy, yeah_

_Just wanna be happy_

I make my way to the balcony and look down to see them all sitting around a table laughing, enjoying themselves. He looks confused by the empty seat and he looks around the room, worried. I smile in spite of myself. He isn't getting up and freaking out that I'm not there. But he at least acknowledges my absence. And I take some comfort in that.

_Holding on tightly_

_Just can't let it go_

_Just trying to play my role_

_Slowly disappear_

It's funny how I can keep all these feelings bottled up when I'm around him but the moment he disappears, I dissolve into nothing. I can keep this charade up with all other nations but there are a few who notice it; my brother is one of them and ironically it's _his _sister that realises it too.

_But all these days, they feel like they're the same_

_Just different faces, different names_

_Get me out of here_

_I can't stand by your side, ohh no_

_And watch this life pass me by, pass me by_

My boss notices it also and he never says anything but I know it annoys him because he feels sorry for me. He gets on so well with his boss and vice versa and my heart foolishly flutters when people bring up the topic of our 'special relationship' but I know it's doesn't actually mean anything. Our governments are extremely close. Not us.

_So what if it hurts me?_

_So what if I break down?_

_So what if this world just throws me off the edge_

_My feet run out of ground_

_I gotta find my place_

_I wanna hear my sound_

_Don't care about all the pain in front of me_

_Cause i'm just trying to be happy_

Looking down on them, I let my gaze fall on his hand. Covered by another's. A lump is stuck in my throat and I have to swallow a few times to get it to pass. But it goes down into my stomach and turns into a knot, twisting painfully. And _ow. _That ache is so, _so _painful.

_So any turns that I can't see,_

_like I'm a stranger on this road_

_But don't say victim_

_Don't say anything_

The worst thing is the fact that he _knows. _And because of that he pities me. And I hate that. I can't _stand _that. The looks of sympathy he sends my way when he catches me staring at him. The apologetic looks he'd give me when he would be laughing with me about something and he would touch me on the arm or something and I would just _crack _and he would just stand there not knowing what to do.

If only I had the guts to do what his sister told me to back in 1945 when I finally had the chance. I had done everything right and it looked like he was so happy that we were allies. My boss was reluctant to join the war and I was furious, he was in desperate need of help but when Kiku decided to attack Pearl Harbour that was it. That was what pulled the trigger and suddenly I found myself constantly over at England's, or Russia's or China's planning formations, battles and espionage. But it he was always there. And I couldn't help myself but be proud that I was in the allies. With him. As an equal.

It was when his sister had confined in me that he had told her that even though he still hadn't fully gotten over my betrayal, he couldn't ever fully hate me because…because…he loved me. He was in love. With me. And I couldn't believe it. I would have never of dreamed that my feelings would be reciprocated. And that right there was my downfall. The reason in later years I cursed myself for and never forgive myself for. Because I thought I had him and that I could take my time to prepare myself. His sister had warned me but I didn't listen.

Until it was too late.

_So what if it hurts me?_

_So what if I break down?_

_So what if this world just throws me off the edge_

_My feet run out of ground_

_I gotta find my place_

_I wanna hear my sound_

_Don't care about all the pain in front of me_

The memories flash quickly through my mind and oh! The pain in my chest has intensified tenfold and I kneel over, trying to stop myself thinking about it but it's too painful and so powerful that I can't handle it.

I manage to get myself down to the large room they are all sitting and when he notices my discomfort, he's up out of seat in a flash, and kneels over me, asking me if I'm okay and when he places his hand on my back, I jolt up and bolt over to where Kiku is standing. It manages to shake the feelings off _for now _and I can't help myself edge closer to Kiku for comfort. He sighs because _he knows _and makes his way back to his seat.

His hand is once again taken and I feel my face scrunch up and he swats the hand away when he sees my reaction and he looks so _sad _like it was I who took his heart and crushed it with my bare hands.

The hand makes its way over to my arm and it pats me gently. I curl my own hands into fists to stop myself from ripping it to shreds. _How dare it touch me? How dare it take him from me?_

"Mon ami, ça va?"

I grit my teeth and mutter a "oui," disgusted that I have to use that foul, French language. I vaguely remember a time when he used to say he hated it too. I vaguely remember him and I sitting at a bar laughing about how stupid he is and now…now…

Now they have been together for 66 years. And I can remember the day so clearly because I was angry at Russia, (when _wasn't_ I angry at Russia?) and Canada came running up to me exclaiming,

"Big brother and England! Big brother and England!"

And he needn't have said anymore but it was then that I knew. Knew I had missed my chance.

The next day his sister was round at my house and she was hurling abused at me, saying how he had waiting years, _years _for me to say something but he had lost faith and given up. And it was only when it was too late, when he had finally gotten over me and fallen in love with someone that I was able to tell him.

But I was too late.

I was too late.

_Too late._

I am snapped out of my thoughts by Japan telling me that everyone is returning to the conference room and I sigh, saying I'll be in in a minute. I decide I'm in too much pain and I walk straight past the double doors of the conference room and as I'm walking out the door, I hear _him._

"America!"

I turn slowly on my heel.

"Why are you-?"

I simply smile at him and it really, really hurts to give him a smile when I know if he returned it, I would be crumble.

"Sorry, not feeling too good so I'm going to head home."

He tilts his head to one side and sighs, his face etched with concern.

"America, I-"

I don't want to hear him apologise. Instead I shrug and say quietly, "It's okay. I know."

I know he's sorry. I know he wants to love me.

But I also know that he's happy that he's in a relationship with France. I know that he has gotten over me and loves France now.

And I knew that the day I decided to let myself be free and take chances instead of being safe, I would have such pain in my life I would sometimes wish I had never been created at all. But I knew because of that, even if I was in such pain now, someday, eventually, I would be-

_Happy._

* * *

_Awwww. So sad __ I've never done a fic where America's the depressed one so I wanted to see what it's like and I gotta tell you, it's hard! It's hard to think of America in such emotional pain because he is such a happy character! But tell me what you thought all the same! __Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	30. How did we meet?

_Hehehe! I like today's chapter name, gives me a chance to slag off France more! Lol!_

_For the lovely people who have reviewed; **GoldandScarlet, 15gummybears, CherryBlossomKisses** and **Anne Fatalism Dilettante** you guys are amazing, thank you so much!_

_Twenty-Nine: How did we meet?_

* * *

America, sprawled out of the sofa, watching England quietly, glances at the island nation before saying, "England? How did we meet?"

The Briton, who was currently reading a very thick book about his own history, looks up and frowns.

"You don't remember?" He asks quietly.

The American shrugs. "Little bits. I can remember France being there."

England grimaces. "Yes, he was, froggy bastard…he tried to take you from me and even when you were finally one of my colonies, he would keep trying to steal you."

America nodded slowly.

"So that's why he wanted to help me out in my war of independence…"

England sniffed. He didn't like this subject. He always got in a foul mood when the topic was being talked about.

"Well yes, I suppose, he was just trying to piss me off. Wanted me to regret making you my brother. I sometimes wonder if you would have declared your independence from him, had he been your brother."

America shrugs again.

"Probably…but then again maybe not. I mean, one of the reasons I fought for my independence against you was because I was in love with you and I was freaked. I knew it was wrong to like your brother! You were just too dense to realise why I was fighting.' He laughs when England glares at him, 'I don't know if I would have declared my independence against Francis because I don't love him and he's a bit of a prat. Maybe I would have to be my own person, my own nation."

America smiles up at England, who in turn looks at him and smirks.

"You know it's also a good thing we're not brothers anymore because that 'prat' proposed to me in 1956 and could have ended up being _your_ mother dearest."

America narrows his eyes and scowls at England, who just smiles innocently back at him.

"He _what? _That bastard! I'm going to-" America stands up, presumably to leave but England rolls his eyes, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and yanks him back down onto the sofa.

"Calm down, idiot. I rejected him anyway. He was only after my money. At that time I was highly disturbed but now, looking back, I laugh at it."

America frowns, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Doesn't matter if you rejected him or not! 1956; we were dating by then! And he proposed to you! Just for that I should beat the holy hell out of him!"

"Hm, while that idea is tempting, it would mean you leaving and me being here all on my lonesome…"

A small smile tugs at America lips and he sighs, lies back down, placing his head on England's lap.

"Well, in that case, I'll stay. Tomorrow morning though, I'm going to kick his ass."

England grins and returns to his book.

"Now _that_ I don't mind one little bit."

* * *

_Hahaha! Jealous America is so adorable! Thanks for reading, cheers LucyMoon1992 x_


	31. Shipwreck

_Hey everyone! So sorry I'm only updating now, been terribly busy, had loads of assessments last week so I've been acting my butt off! Anyway onto today's chapter; enjoy!_

_Thank you a billion times to **Amber Star 1114, GoldandScarlet** (I realise that now! thanks for the CC!) **Anne Fatalism Dilettante, Wolvinfae1297** and **CherryBlossomKisses** for reviewing!_

_Thirty-One: Shipwreck_

* * *

"You're stranded on a deserted island. What do you take with you?"

England peeled his eyes from the newspaper and peered at the nation beside him in bemusement. America was chewing on a pencil rubber, staring down at the glossy pages of a magazine spread out on the conference table. When England didn't answer, he looked up at him.

"Well?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"It's a quiz." He jabbed the pencil at the magazine. "Your answer will depict your personality. For example, I would take my statue of Liberty, my TV and an enormous batch of hamburgers, and a telephone, which means that I'm sentimental and social."

"You needed a quiz to tell you that?"

America frowned. "Just answer the question, you dick."

He groaned and sat back in his chair, signalling to a passing waitress for a tea refill. "Why am I stuck on an island?"

"What does it matter?"

"It could impact my decision."

"How?"

"Do you want me to answer or not, idiot?"

America puckered his lips into a cool glower. "You've been shipwrecked."

"How did the ship get shipwrecked?"

"I don't know . . . it hit a glacier."

"So I'm in the arctic?"

America rolled his eyes. "No, it's a tropical island."

"What are glaciers doing in the tropics?"

"Oh for goodness' sakes, why do you have to be such a pain?"

Engand's lips twitched. He shrugged, holding his mug out as the waitress stopped by with the teapot.

"Fine. The ship sprung a leak by mysterious circumstances and you ended up on this island."

"Where's the crew?"

"Dead."

England raised an eyebrow.

"Well how am I supposed to know? They don't give the whole story in this stupid magazine."

"Is there food on the island?"

"There's probably coconuts and stuff."

"Internet connection?"

"No. And no electricity."

"And yet there's a phone jack?"

"It's a cell phone!"

"What are you going to do when the battery dies?"

America rolled his eyes. "Fine, there's Internet and electricity and all the amenities of the modern world."

"So...it's Hawaii, but without all the people?"

He opened his mouth, shut it, tried again, and then huffed. "Are you going to answer the question or not?"

England cupped his face and stared up at the ceiling. America tapped his pencil impatiently against the magazine. When he'd thought for longer than he was willing to wait, America heaved an irritated sigh. "It's not rocket science, England."

"I can bring anything?" he said. "Even...a person?"

Confusion flashed in America's eyes as he tried to calculate who, exactly, he meant to take with him.

"I...I guess so."

"All right. Then I'd bring an airplane, and a pilot."

England nodded, satisfied with his answer. But as America digested his response, the older nation could see him growing more and more frustrated.

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands before America could accuse him of cheating, "you said I could bring anything."

America tucked the pencil behind his eye and rolled up the magazine. "That was only two things," he said through gritted teeth, pushing out of the chair beside England and standing up to glare down at the Brit.

"Oh, right. I guess my third thing would be..."

America paused, brows furrowed, and waited.

"You."

The frustration dissipated and America's stomach did a flip. "Me?"

England took a long sip of his tea. "That's right."

"Wh-why?"

England grinned, and America must have recognized the teasing expression, because he suddenly tensed.

"In case the plane crashes too, of mysterious circumstances. All those hamburgers will make you a perfect flotation device."

* * *

_LOL! Hope you liked! Cheers,__LucyMoon1992 x_


	32. Lust

_Hello everyone! Thanks for all the lovely reviews!_

_Anywho! The brilliant Coins Compressed agreed to do this fic with me so I really hope everyone enjoys it and a massive thank you to her; she's amazing!_

_WARNING: SOME YAOI IS COMING YOUR WAY SO IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ._

_Thirty-One: Lust_

* * *

"HAHAHAHAHA! I love that joke! Don't you love that joke?"

England rolled his eyes at the girl sprawled out of the sofa opposite him and the man beside him. The man, in turn, chuckled slightly and said, "Sure, Emily, it's awesome."

Once again, a _quiet _night in at England's house had turned into his sister drinking three bottles of that damn frog's red wine and getting completely and utterly pissed. France, himself was in the kitchen, getting everyone cheese and biscuits and coffee, in a weak attempt to sober his girlfriend up a bit.

"You know," Northern Ireland started, having settled down and was now staring up at the ceiling, giggling slightly, "You two act like a pair of virgin Mary's. Do you ever have sex? Like _ever_?"

America gaped at the small nation while England scowled at her, trying his hardest to seem nonchalant about her question.

"I don't see how that is any of your business Northern Ireland." He replied curtly, eyes burning a hole into the back of his sister's head. She simply laughed.

"Well, yeah, it kinda is; if you're not going to do anything with him, England, let America spend a night or two with _me, _then he'll know _exactly_ what's he's missing. I don't mind giving him lessons; it could even be described as '_taking one for the team'_."

The extremely drunk brown-haired nation looked up and stared at the handsome man beside her brother, her lips curving into a small, seductive smile; a smile England had seen _way _too many times before.

"Because you really are very, very good-looking America." She whispered, managing to stand up and swaying slightly, she sauntered over to them then stumbling, leading her to fall onto America's lap. America coughed nervously while England was mentally shooting daggers at his sister.

"Well, isn't this convenient?" She slurred, stroking America's cheek as his face turned to the colour of a ripe tomato, "So how about it? I mean, why have only one Kirkland when you can have _two?"_

England's face went from white, to red, to dark red and now threatening to change to purple as he screamed out, "FRANCE! GET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HOME, NOW!"

Suddenly the blonde-haired man came flying into the living room, sat the cheese plate down, laughed slightly at the scene before him and then slowly picked up Northern Ireland and held her bridal style. She looked up and gasped in delight.

"FRANCE!" She squealed and hastily pressed her lips to his.

America and England rolled their eyes slightly as Northern Ireland drew back.

"I think it's time we headed home. I think you've drank a little too much." Northern Ireland tried to protest but looked like she was going to fall asleep and so refrained from doing so.

"Say goodbye to your brother and America!"

Emily slowly turned to look at her brother and waved at him to come closer. Sighing, he got up out of his seat and was immediately pulled into a big hug, his sister kissing him over and over again on the cheek.

"Yes, I get it; I'll talk to you tomorrow morning Northern Ireland." England snapped, swatting at her.

She then grabbed America and proceeded to do the same thing, while he laughed.

France shook hands with them both and the two men watched the couple through the large window to their right as France put Northern Ireland in the back seat of his car and drove off quickly.

America turned to England, grinning.

"Your sister certainly is _very_-"

"Say another word and you can leave here tonight with a black eye." England growled, glancing at the American beside him.

America simply laughed.

"I wasn't going to say anything _bad_. I was just thinking and I hope you don't take this the wrong way but because of the way Northern Ireland's acting tonight, there's no doubt in my mind that when they get home, France and Northern Ireland are totally going to have sex."

England groaned, throwing his head back on the sofa.

"Honestly America! Not something I want to hear. But, what's your point?"

America leaned closer to England, trailing his hand up his arm.

"I was thinking we should copy them and do the same, hm?"

England didn't even get a chance to agree or disagree because America, smirking, grabbed him by the shirt and hungrily pressed his lips to his own.

_[LucyMoon1992 stares at the computer, her fingers settled on the keypad. 'Hm. Lust. Oh crap! I'm no good at writing about-'Suddenly she is pushed out of the way by her English friend, Coins Compressed, who looks at the computer gleefully before adding, 'Leave the rest __to me__.' And so enter Coins Compressed for the second part of this awesome Fanfic! =)]_

"What," England said, jerking backwards and raising his arms in some kind of defensive gesture, "do you think you're _doing?"_

America grinned and set his hands down on the armrests of the sofa, leaning over England with an amused expression. "Doing _you_, hopefully."

"That's not what I meant," England replied. His teeth ground together and he furrowed his brow, hands clenched into fists. "Don't tell me you're as drunk as Emily was."

America shook his head, leaning across to flick of the light switch embedded into the wall to England's right. "Nobody can reach that level of drunk easily." His demeanour changed as he added, "Take me to bed, England."

"Indeed; you're drunk," England said, squirming slightly in his chair. "You'll think differently about things in the morning. Go to bed by yourself."

America had always found it easy, every time England brought up the issue of sex in the past, to brush it aside- even after they'd been officially a couple for who knew how long. Because America had been nervous, not wanting to mess up on his first time with England, not wanting to let him down or do something stupid. So it was only natural England didn't believe him when he finally wanted to instigate something.

"I'm serious this time," America declared. "I'm not going to bed unless I can take you with me."

As his eyes widened from the onslaught of no doubt perverse thoughts, England groaned, sinking down against the chair whilst desperately avoiding America's gaze. "You don't know what you're saying."

America removed his hands from the armrests and grabbed England's collar, pulling him forward until they were nose-to-nose. He kept his gaze fixed on England's eyes as he muttered, "I know exactly what I'm saying. _Fuck me_."

That was enough; England got to his feet and seized America's wrists, still clinging to his shirt, and dove into a kiss. It was too fast, lacking finesse, and their teeth clinked together before America tilted back his head to allow England access at a slightly more comfortable angle. The grip of England's fingers on America's wrists intensified in its strength as they began to move, stumbling across the floor, using America's body as a battering ram through the thick oxygen and scent of wine threatening to smother the living room and those inside it.

And then they fell backwards as they reached the other side of the room, supported only by the large window that took up two thirds of the West wall. The glass shuddered as America leant against it, throwing back his head and ignoring the impact against the pane, England's lips latched to his neck and sucking at his flesh.

The moon was in full swing as far as its light was concerned; America momentarily panicked that perhaps people walking around on the street would be able to see him and England pressed up against the window from outside. He would have raised his concerns, but then he realised that's what England _wanted_- to have people possibly looking, peering in, shocked and then _fascinated _by what they might see.

Because there was nothing short of lust in England's eyes, drawn out by the promise of sex and the permission to finally discover the intricacies of America's body. As America let go of England's collar and allowed his arms to fall by his side, England dropped America's wrists simultaneously and slipped a hand up his shirt. Cool fingers, far _too_ cool considering the temperature of the room, drew across America's abdomen, a thumb circling a sensitive spot beneath his ribs.

Before too long England was simply petting him, fingertips leaving sharp tingles of arousal in their wake as, inch by inch, America allowed himself to be stirred by England's touches. America slipped his hands up onto the base of England's back and supported him as he arched upwards, unbuttoning America's shirt from the inside by tearing away the buttons and paying no heed to wherever they landed.

"Should've done this ages ago," America muttered, as England tugged away his shirt. "Should've let you-"

"Shush," England said, simply, and America obliged, allowing England to continue doing whatever it was he was doing.

There wasn't any real plan behind his ministrations, he simply did whatever he liked, tracing over America's ribs and teasing the softer skin around his nipples but never quite reaching them- and America didn't care, because he was more sensitive across the area of his chest than areola, every stroke to his torso feeling like it was accompanied by one to his cock.

England's hands continued to roam, veering back towards America's abdomen and sweeping down to his waist, fumbling with his belt until it finally came undone. The release of the belt loosened the tightness in America's trousers, and he let out a groan as England raised a knee to press against his crotch. America felt like he'd been hard forever, the weight and heat between his legs far too much, almost able to feel England's fingers on his calves, almost able to detect a warm tongue against his already-burning thighs.

His breathing was shallow, swift- the temperature of his body was a stark contrast to the coldness of the window behind his back, every chill sent through his spine from the night air against the glass forced into battle with the scorched bursts of stimulation brought on by England's actions.

"C'mon," America said- almost pleading. "I didn't ask you to do nothin', I said-"

"I know what you said," England snapped. "But you took so long to let me get you like this that I'm going to spend my time enjoying you, thank you."

Well, America could hardly argue with that; England wasn't admitting it, but America knew England was somewhat in awe, delighted at being able to hold on to him, to have him on display in such an intimate manner- America wouldn't let England have him up against a window every night, but he couldn't deny being excited at the possibilities, the inherent thrill at the idea of being watched keeping him hopelessly erect, waiting, gasping for air.

He bucked forward, the friction with the material of his boxers granting him some sort of relief, but England clearly disapproved of America trying to relieve his frustration- England reached down, pulled down America's boxers, and went back to igniting his chest with teasing touches that coiled his climax tighter and tighter in his balls. Though he couldn't let go and come; not until England actually aided him, but England seemed all too happy to ignore America's stiff cock and continue playing with him like a cherished prize. England was winding him up, getting him going, and all for nothing.

"You've grown into an excellent man," England muttered, lips against America's shoulder. The vibrations travelled straight to his hands and America's fingers flexed against England's back before he pushed his nails into England's clothed skin without meaning to, instinctive. "I can hardly believe you want to be with _me_, out of everyone you could have. Your judgement is crazy. Either that or you're stupider than I thought, but it works out very well for me."

America felt like saying something reassuring but his throat choked back his speech; he could only writhe, trying to keep his arms from thrashing and digging his nails instead into England's back even more. He knew he was stronger than England, and he knew such a firm grip might end up tearing England's shirt and breaking his flesh, but he needed something to hold on to, to steady himself with.

When England's hand unexpectedly deciding to grip his erection, he felt momentarily that he might just die there and then.

The shock at finally being touched was too much. England's thumb circled the damp, chubby head, running his fingers around the length; America didn't realise he was coming until after the lack of oxygen in the room and his lungs forced him to gasp, head slamming against England's shoulder and body shuddering as he spent himself over England's cuffs.

It wasn't the touches, or the expertise of England's movements, that sent America over the edge- it was a glance of the look in England's eyes. Something so basic, primitive, entirely _sexual_; something America hadn't expected to ever see from England, and the best part was it was all directed at_ him_. All America saw, when he looked into England's eyes, was himself reflected back, _wanted_.

"Lovely," England said, simply. "I don't deserve you. You're absolutely lovely."

"D'we have anyone watching?" America asked, as he grinned against England's neck. Too tired to move just yet, but wanting to keep the conversation alive, wanting to hear England's voice and feel him breathing, steadily, in comparison to America's own shaky gasps.

"I don't know," England said, while one arm wrapped around America's shoulders and pulled him back into an embrace. Then England reached out with his free arm to pull the curtain cord and they drew, pulled by the wires, until the room was dark, save from one small candle on the table and a crack of moonlight allowed in by the small gap between the two curtains. "If anyone _did_ see you, they were lucky indeed."

"That was awesome," America murmured, "but you're still taking me to bed."

England laughed. "You're insatiable."

"No," America said, lowering his voice and muttering into England's ear, "but I wanna return the favour." England's eyelids fluttered as America reached down to stroke him through his trousers; he was unbelievably stiff, turned on by the sight of America lost in the throes. As England's palms, slick from sweat and come, pressed flat to America's chest and his lips pursed just a little, America knew he had him won over completely. "Let's _go_. Upstairs. We'll make sure to outdo anything France and Northern Ireland could."

"Well,' England said, grinning as America led him from the room, 'if you put it like _that..."_

* * *

_Wheeehey! Hope you enjoyed that! A huge, HUGE, thank-you to my partner-in-crime, Coins Compressed for writing the second part of the story- which was amazing! Please show your appreciation and review!__ She'll be checking to see if you have written nice things about her, I can assure you! Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	33. England in a fix Part 1

_Hola amigos! I apologise for my tardiness, but I do have other Fanfics that I need to get along with and also that little thing called University. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking, 'HA! All she does is drink!' If you think that then you are WRONG. Cos I don't __just get__ drunk…I buy manga too. XD_

_I don't own Hetalia…oh hush up Himaruya…_

_Thirty-Three: England in a fix Part 1_

* * *

It was lunch-time during one of the world summit meetings and once again England found himself sitting with the same people. The same obnoxious, annoying but all the same friendly people.

Not one to be seen without his family, a hung-over Scotland sat on his right, head in between his arms, draped of the table in a weak attempt to catch some zz's and Wales to his left, chatting amicably to New Zealand beside him.

Across from him sat his youngest sister, Northern Ireland who was laughing loudly at some joke Spain had told her, who, in turn was being glowered at by both France and Romano.

England found himself glaring at the handsome nation sitting beside Northern Ireland, staring back at him, his eyes filled with amusement.

"Come on England, don't take it personally or anything, I'm just saying, you're not the _hottest_ nation in the world. But, props to you for being a sibling to the nation that is." His eyes flickered quickly to his left before gazing at England again.

"I don't understand why you would think I_ wouldn't_ take it personally but that's besides the point. I'll have you know, I'm pretty sure lots of countries fancy me."

America's eyes twinkled deviously as he began laughing.

"'Fancy you?' Dude, no one has used that term since the 50's! It's 'I'm pretty sure lots of countries want to _date _me."

The Briton gaped.

"How dare you correct _me _on the _English _language!" England snapped his mouth shut, 'I honestly do not know why I'm even having this conversation with you,_ boy_. Regardless, I have a lot of admirers America."

America raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, like who?"

England hesitated, not knowing what to say. He sighed as he looked up to see his sister turning around in her seat to scowl at America.

"Hey! Stop embarrassing my brother, Fatass! He has tons of admirers! Like…me." She caught France's eye who was sitting beside Scotland and both began laughing, "I'd totally fuck you if you weren't my brother!" And then burst into peals of laughter.

England was practically shooting daggers at his sister while America sat there casually, one arm over the back of his chair, smiling smugly at England.

Hands curled into fists, England suddenly hoisted himself up and glared to the man opposite him.

"Just you wait America! I'll show you how desired I really am!"

And with that, he spun on his heel and walked out of the waited room, leaving everyone, especially America, to wonder what exactly he was planning to do next.

* * *

_Weeeheyy! So this is a two-parter so not to worry! Please review. Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	34. England in a Fix Part 2

_Hello everyone! Thanks for reading and reviewing, this challenge is just so much fun to write and its great to hear all your feedback so thanks! So here's the part two of my little 'England in a fix' story so enjoy!_

_I don't Hetalia…*goes off to a corner and cries*_

_Thirty-Four: England in a fix Part 2_

* * *

When America woke the next morning, he, thinking chiefly of himself, had completely forgotten about England's angry out-burst about how he was desired by many countries. It was only when the blue eyed nation arrived at the world summit conference building that he realised that something was _not right._

Because the place was queued out the door.

Approaching the last person in line, who just so happened to be England's brother, America tapped the man lightly on the shoulder, who in turn whirled around, saw who it was and then promptly turned away from the American.

"Geez, Scotland, what's up with you?" America asked, feeling hurt that Scotland had ignored him so blatantly.

"You're the reason the damn building is queued out the door. If you hadn't pissed England off yesterday he wouldn't be doing this. You don't have to wait in the line; God knows you don't want to anyway, but he refuses to speak to anyone if they're not in the line. Except our precious baby sister who came up with the idea…stupid bitch…"

America ran a hand through his hand, completely lost.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What's going on? Why is everyone queued up?"

By Scotland's biting words, America had an uneasy feeling that whatever was going on inside was _not good_. Just as Scotland was about to reply, America's hand was grabbed and he was being hauled into the building past the hordes of excited nations.

Finally coming to a stop in the entrance hall, America glared at the nation who had grabbed him, rubbing his wrist gingerly.

"Jesus, Northern Ireland, you don't have to break my freakin' wrist."

Northern Ireland sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

"I'm sure you're wondering what is going on?"

America nodded his head vigorously and Northern Ireland simply pointed to the end staircase at the back of the entrance hall. Following Northern Ireland's hand, America's gaze fell upon a large stall, the size of the staircase, blocking the stairs off and was the sole reason for all the commotion.

It was a kissing booth.

And had a large banner on the top with the words 'KISSING BOOTH- JUST £1 A SMOOCH FROM THE ONE AND ONLY ARTHUR KIRKLAND,' sprawled across it.

America stared at the booth, whose creator was standing proudly inside, waiting until 9 o'clock, to open and begin business.

America felt his blood boil at the sight and his eyes darkened as the person first in line was no other than France. Eyes narrowing on Northern Ireland, he scowled at her.

"Why is _your _boyfriend attempting to kiss England?" He spat out, body rigid, hand curled into fists.

Northern Ireland pouted.

"Is that all you have to say? How about 'Wow Emily, that booth looks really nice, good job' or 'wow Emily who knew there was so many people who all wanted to stick their tongue down England's throat'?"

"This was _your _idea?" America growled out, edging closer to the young nation. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Uh huh. He came by yesterday and asked me to help him out. At first he didn't really like the idea but then remembered why he was doing it and relented." Northern Ireland replied, looking proudly past America and to her brother.

"He is doing all this just to prove that I was wrong?" The male nation gasped out. Northern Ireland's lips curved into a small smile.

"Well yes, first and foremost. But there are _other _underlying reasons."

"Such as?"

"Why don't you go ask him yourself?"

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Because where would the fun in that be?"

America flapped his arms at her in exasperation.

"Northern Ireland!"

She copied the motion.

"America!"

He stopped, glaring at her.

"This is stupid! Anyway, Scotland told me he's not talking to anyone except you. He has to wait in the line just to talk to him. And also, why are there so many people wanting to k-kiss England?!" America tried to sound amused about the whole thing when in actual fact he wanted to go over there and beat them all to a bloody pulp.

The clock suddenly chimed and America shifted his gaze to England who was getting the open sign from the back of his stall. England turned back around and his eyes locked with America's. He was furious looking, obviously, he completely blamed America for him having to do this but there was something else in the depths of his deep green eyes that America couldn't quite place. Desperation? Need? _Lust?_

"Oh shit!"

Northern Ireland crossed her arms and smirked at him.

"I think _now_ would be a good time for an intervention, don't you think?"

America said nothing, England finally tearing his gaze away from America's, propped the open sign against the wooden countertop and smiled. France eagerly stepped forward, money at the ready.

America bolted to the stall, pushing himself between France and the piece of wood, glowering at him so fiercely that the Frenchman took a step back.

"I'd leave now if I were you Frenchy. Unless you want me to break you in half." His menacing glare melted France's resolve and he ran, making his way over to Northern Ireland.

"Excuse me? Just _what _do you think you're doing?"

America spun on his heel, turning his furious gaze on England. England didn't shrink back however; he was just as equally angry.

"Why are you doing this England? It's cheap and pathetic!"

A flash of hurt crossed over England's face before he stomped his foot, glaring at the man before him.

"I'm just trying to prove a point and when I kiss every single person in this line, you'll not be able to say that I'm undesirable!"

America gritted his teeth. _Why is this getting to me so much? Just walk away dude, walk away!_

Being the stubborn person that he is, America refused to back down.

"You don't need to do this stupid kissing booth to prove to me that people like you! I don't care!"

England crossed his arms.

"Well I do care. I want to verify to you that you're wrong and everyone does _fancy _me. This is about pride America."

"And playing tonsil hockey with every single nation at the world summit is a _proud_ thing to do, huh? Jesus, England and I thought _I_ was stubborn…"

"This has nothing to do with stubbornness. It's to do with you always looking down at me and never letting me be; you always have to tear me down about something. Well not this time, this time, I will confirm that I'm one of the most wanted countries in the whole world. It's a family thing."

England eyes flicked over to Northern Ireland who had her two thumbs up and was grinning like a Cheshire cat. America suddenly grabbed England by his lapels and shook him a few times.

"For fuck sake, England, I told you; I don't care anymore! Just stop this now. You don't need to prove anything to me. I know just how much you're wanted and not just because of the massive line behind me!"

England raised his eyebrows, raising his voice to America's level.

"Don't make me laugh! And just how do you know that exactly?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

The room suddenly went deadly silent and everyone gaped at the two nations at the staircase. America suddenly let go and England and staggered a few steps back from the stall. _What the-? I can't believe I said that, I totally can't believe I said that! Just tell him you didn't mean it- quit lying to yourself, you've fallen for him. Hook, line and sinker. _

America brought his gaze up slowly to meet England's, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then he reached down below him and pulled out a large bull-horn and brought it to his mouth.

"Okay, he admitted it, everyone! Thank you very much for doing this today. You've all been great."

Everyone cheered and clapped for America, some of them wolf-whistling, one certain female country called out, "ROOM 410 IS FREE IF YOU WANT TO DO WHAT YOU WERE MEANT TO DO WITH EVERYONE ELSE!"

England shot Northern Ireland a filthy look, coming out from behind the stall to stand in front of America. The sandy-haired nation's jaw had hit the floor, his cheeks were burning, a delicious pink colour tinting them and the Englishman chuckled at him.

"You- you _knew?"_ America managed to choke out.

"Well no, not initially but then I went around to Northern Ireland's house and-"

"You needn't say anymore." He brought his eyes to the floor, feeling sheepish and uncomfortable.

"God, this is_ embarrassing_…"

England took hold of America's chin and gently titled his head upwards so he was looking directly at him.

"Don't be embarrassed,' he muttered, bringing his face centimetres from America's, 'It just so happens that I really like a nation that basically screamed a love confession at me today so I'm on top of the world."

America couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across his face. Just as America was about to kiss him, he could feel two pairs of eyes on them and turned to his left to see Northern Ireland and France standing there, France's hand around Northern Ireland's waist, grinning slyly at them both.

"Well done you two, you should be actors." America commented while Northern Ireland smirked.

"Well y'know, it's all a matter of knowing you wouldn't be able to stand England kissing other nations and then playing that to your weaknesses." Northern Ireland high-fived England and America frowned at them.

"Hey! That's really cruel!"

Northern Ireland stuck her tongue out at him. "No, _that's_ genius."

She then turned quickly and grabbing France's hand, winked at the both of them, calling out, "We're using room 390 so piss off somewhere else."

And with that she and France darted up the stairs and out of sight.

Suddenly remembering about the whole nature of today, America shoved his hand into his trouser pocket, finally finding what he was looking for, taking his hand out and producing a one pound coin. England laughed as America pressed it into England's hand.

"One kiss please."

Wasting no time, England brought his lips swiftly down on America's. After a moment, America put his hand into England's and said, "Let's go find room 410."

As they walked to the top of the stairs, America grinned and said before pressing his lips lightly against England's, "I hope I don't have to pay you £1 every time I want to kiss you."

Grabbing America by his tie England muttered, "Haven't you heard America, you can't buy love."

And with that, England reached up on his tip-toes and hungrily pressed America's lips to his own.

* * *

_D'awwwww, such a fluffy ending! Hope you liked! Tell me what you thought! __Cheers LucyMoon1992 x_


	35. Wrath

_Hey everyone! Anyway, let's cut right to the chase shall we? Hope you enjoy it!_

_Thanks so much for all your support; I can't say it enough._

_Thirty-Five: Wrath._

* * *

To say that Arthur Kirkland, the one and only personification of the nation of England was angry was an extreme understatement. Even saying he was furious wasn't enough.

_Absolutely, completely fucking livid_ would be more precise.

He whirled around and glared at the people sitting at his kitchen table.

"_Who_ did it?" He growled out, low and dangerous, glowering at them as they all averted their gazes, "Well? No one is going to confess?"

He shifted his gaze from one nation to the next, eyes finally landing on the only female of the group and stormed up to her.

"Emily?"

She slowly looked up, terrified.

"Yes, big brother?" It was the strangest thing England had ever seen in his whole existence. _Northern Ireland looking vulnerable._ And he would have felt sympathy for the young girl if he wasn't so incensed.

He leaned down close to her and whispered, "If you tell me who did it, I'll let you go and visit France for a whole week and won't say a word about it."

Her small face light up and, apparently from the look on her boyfriend's face beside her; he had heard.

"Tell him Irlande du Nord. _Please?"_

She looked up at France and saw him giving her the puppy-dog face; even a face England couldn't say no to and nodded. Turning back to her brother she jerked for him to come closer and whispered the one name he secretly thought had done it from the start.

"_America."_

He stood up slowly, physically trying to stop himself from turning to his former charge and lunging at him, and announced, "The following can leave; France, Northern Ireland, Scotland, Wales and Japan."

They all looked up at him for a moment before he lost his temper and screeched, "_OUT!"_

And they scampered.

America, who had been silent the whole time, looked up innocently at the island nation and said, 'What's up, England?"

England snarled at America and grabbing him, pushed him up against the wall, pinning his arms at either side of him. America smirked.

"Awesome. Never tried this position before, maybe we should forget what hap-"

Arthur twisted Alfred's wrists and he winced.

"Okay…maybe not. Please, just stop that; it really freakin' hurts!"

Arthur relented a bit but continued to glare at America.

"Northern Ireland already told me it was you. Just admit it."

America scoffed.

"I'm sayin' _nothing_."

England glowered a few moments more and then suddenly let go of the nation. Rubbing his wrists gingerly, America turned warily to the Briton.

"Why did you let me go?" He asked, confused.

"Well, it looks to me like you're not going to confess to it," He replied dryly, "so I've decided that until you admit to the crime there will be no sex between you and I. _At all_."

America's jaw dropped as he looked at England in half horror, half outrage.

"That is completely unfair! No way!" He yelled, fuming. England rolled his eyes slightly.

"You can't say 'no way' America, it's not an agreement. And you know what? Now I think about it actually there will be no sex, no touching, no kisses, _nada." _

America's eyes widened and his lip began to tremble.

"You can't do this! It's not fair!" He whined and England smirked at him.

"You asked for it. So those all the rules; _comprende_?" When no response came, England turned on his heel and began walking out of the kitchen.

_He won't last five seconds._

The Brit could hear America behind him, shuffling, not knowing what to do.

_And in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…_

"ALRIGHT I DID IT! I ATE THE CHOCOLATE CAKE FRANCE MADE FOR YOU! THERE! I ADMITTED IT! YOU HAPPY?"

England spinned around and grinned triumphantly at a red-faced America.

"Yes. _Immensely so_." And began walking away again but America grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"So…can we…?"

England laughed.

"God no. Now that I know finally that you're the one who did it, I'm giving you a punishment. 2 weeks. Deal with it." And strode off down the hallway.

…

…

…

"ENGLAND!"

* * *

_Hahaha! Lol! Hope you liked! Review please! __Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	36. April Fools

_Hey everyone! So cos its April's Fools Day in two days I decided to do something funny with it so enjoy this chapter!_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter- guys, you're completely awesome!_

_Thirty-Six: April Fools._

* * *

England spotted him at the counter of the bar all the nations were currently in, his broad shoulders cloaked in that ridiculous bomber jacket and hunched over a large mug most likely to be a cup of coffee. Glee stirred in the pit of England's stomach, mixed with anticipation and a touch of anxiety. His fingertips were on fire as he searched through his bag, pulling out the necessary tools of destruction without taking his eyes from the nation.

England crept forward on tiptoes, ignorant of the strange looks that other patrons were giving him, staying low so not even France, on the other side of the counter, would see him.

The two men seemed to be having a serious, in-depth discussion. It was perfect. He would be so distracted he would never know what hit him.

A cackle escaped England's lips; he choked it back down.

He reached the safety of the counter, and there his target sat, unmoving, not even drinking his coffee—no, he realized with some surprise. It was a cup of tea in front of him, and- was that a rose?

England frowned at the rose, then at the two cups of tea, and then thought...

Mmm, Tea.

He shook his head and quickly closed the distance to his stool with the stealth of a ninja. America's voice was low and deep above him, but the words were mostly jumbled up with the noisy bar. England was glad that the chaos also drowned out the paper that crinkled in his hand as he raised his handmade sign toward England's back. Ok, so he was being extremely childish but he didn't care. He was just getting America back for doing the exact same thing to him the other day.

"It has to be today," he heard America say. "I can't take this anymore."

England froze, his fingers mere millimetres from his back. He sounded upset. He sounded almost miserable.

England gulped and hardened his resolve. So what if he was? Had America ever cared if _he_ was upset? If _he_ was miserable?

Gritting his teeth, he stuck the sign to America's back with a piece of pre-cut cello-tape, pressing it gently but firmly on the jacket.

He didn't stir.

England breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't," said France. "I just think you should go about this a little differently. You know, ease into it. Maybe start by just being nice for once. Otherwise, I'm just worried he might not take you seriously."

England loitered behind America's stool, torn between the need to escape, and his growing curiosity. What a strange conversation they were having... But no, he dared not be in America's presence today. He was too delighted with his brilliant plan to let a confrontation with the idiot ruin it for him.

Turning on his heels, he began to waddle away.

"Not take me seriously?" America laughed, but it was humourless. "How could he not take me seriously? I'm in love with him."

England squeaked and halted. The floor churned beneath him and he blindly reached for the leg of a stool to steady himself.

America was in love?

His heart thumped.

As in... in love, in love?

His lungs burned.

Was that even possible?

"That's the thing, America. Right now he thinks you hate him. If you were just to go up to Angleterre and say 'Surprise! I'm actually in love with you!' what do you expect him to say?"

England clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Well, I expect him to laugh, but what other choice do I have? I feel like if I have to go another day without him knowing—"

England shot to his feet. "You're in love with me?"

America and France both started and gaped at the Brit. America snatched the rose off the counter and hid it behind his back. England barely noticed.

America said nothing. Just stared, open-mouthed, as England stared, open-mouthed, back at him.

"Well?"

Silence.

"Don't bother trying to deny it," he said, shaking a finger at him. "I heard everything."

America blinked. Closed his mouth. Gulped. His eyes slid over to France, who shrugged, then back to England. "Um..."

The green-eyed nation quirked an eyebrow.

"Ha!"

England jumped at his outburst, and watched, dazed, as America's look of terror and uncertainty dissolved into a broad grin.

"April fools!" he yelled. Then he jumped off the stool and half-sauntered, half-ran, toward the exit.

England watched him go, his eyes attached to the crimson rose hidden, but not really hidden, behind America's back. That, and the sign he'd thought was so funny that morning.

I'M SECRETLY IN LOVE WITH ENGLAND.

Then France saw it and burst out laughing, and England couldn't help but smile too.

In love or not, it was still pretty darn funny.

* * *

_Hehe! Hope you liked! Cheers_ _LucyMoon1992 x_


	37. Childhood memories

_Hey everyone! Got a good one today which I grinned at like a maniac when I saw it so anyway enjoy!_

_Thirty-Seven: Childhood memories._

* * *

Little America always hated bedtime. Bedtime always meant being apart from England and it also meant going to sleep. He liked sleeping alright; it was what happened when he slept. He often had nightmares. And they usually involved England dying or something awful like that.

So when he would wake up, sweat covering his back, he would shiver and jump out of his bed and run into England, crying. England would comfort him and let him sleep in his bed. And then everything would be fine. Perfect even. He wished he could sleep in England's bed every night. England was the best big brother ever.

"England, England!"

The Briton opened one eye lazily to see his little brother hovering beside his bed, tears streaming down his face. He sighed.

"Come on, in you get."

England didn't even have to ask what was wrong anymore. If America was beside his bed in the middle of the night it meant he had a nightmare and England always felt bad if he told him that everything would be alright and to just go back to his own bed. So he just relented and let him sleep in his bed. It was quite adorable. He felt like a dad or something to poor, defenceless America.

"Thanks England." America would have said, crawling in beside him, "You're the best."

And with that, he would drift off to sleep, never noticing the small smile that would adorn England's face.

* * *

"America!"

America glanced up from his absurdly huge pile of letters from different countries to look at his companion.

"Were you even listening to anything I said?"

"No."

England sighed heavily.

'See this; this is why I don't like you.'

America chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Sure you don't old man. I know I wouldn't let just _anyone _sleep in my bed. It would have to be someone I don't like."

England titled his head in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"Remember when I was younger? And I would always climb into your bed when I had nightmares?"

England glared at the American.

"Hm, yes. Back when you were sweet and innocent and not hell-bent on independence." He smirked slightly, "If I had known back then I would have kicked you out and watch you cry. And I would have laughed."

America frowned at the blonde sitting opposite him.

"Now, that's not very nice, is it? But yes, sweet and innocent I was. Still, think about it, you should be thanking me for wanting to be independent."

England raised his eyebrows. "Oh yes?" He asked challenging.

America suddenly stood up and walked around the table, pushed England back against his chair and leaned down close to him.

"Yeah," he replied dryly, "because it would be pretty sick for you to be dating your little brother."

England flushed and pushed America away from him.

"See, that's where you're wrong. Because you and I aren't _dating."_

America laughed at him.

"Sure, sure. What do the British call going out all the time with someone, never going a day without a phone call, kissing someone senseless- among _others_ things," America winked at England and laughed when England scowled at him, "and being insanely jealous when that person decides, for a laugh, to chat up his little sister?"

England glared at him.

"That's called harassment. And shut up about Northern Ireland. She's a saint."

America laughed loudly then, shaking his head back and forth.

"Yeah, I'm sure France would tell you the same thing." He nudged England and the Englishman frowned.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He cried.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. But you still haven't really answered my question. If it's not dating then what?"

England's frown disappeared as he stood up and brushed his lips against America's.

'It's called being in love with someone…idiot."

* * *

_Awwwwwww! Please review! Cheers LucyMoon1992 x_


	38. Gluttony

_Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews ! Today's sin is about Gluttony- LOL! America being the complete fat-ass that he is! Tehe! Anyway, enjoy!_

_Thirty-Eight: Gluttony_

* * *

England watched, in awe, as his companion picked up his _sixth _hamburger and began stuffing it into his face. The Brit wasn't sure if he was more disgusted or amazed.

Throwing down his napkin, England glanced around the restaurant and spotted France sitting with Canada, both of whom were laughing at him and his obvious discomfort of his partner's eating. He glowered at them and turned away to see America grab his huge bottle of coke and swiftly down half of it. Setting his drink back down on the table, America grinned at his boyfriend.

"Well, I'm full." He said happily. England simply raised his eyebrows.

"Are you sure? Don't think you could fit other burger in there? I mean, six managed to go in, I'm sure you could find room for a seventh?"

The American frowned, "What's your problem?"

England sighed, "Nothing America, _nothing_…"

America sat up; feeling anger rise in him because he was confused by England acting like he was annoyed at him. "If you have something to say, say it! I can take it England."

The island nation stared at the man opposite him for a moment before dropping his voice and saying, "America, you eat twice as much as any other nation I know. And I'm pretty old. I know _a lot _of countries. You're a bit of a glutton."

England winced, ready for an onslaught of American insults but instead the superpower threw his head back and laughed. The Briton looked at him in bewilderment.

"Oh England! I really do love you!" He chortled through his laughter. England turned a delightful shade of pink when other people in the restaurant started smiling at the two of them.

"What's so funny?" England mumbled. America suddenly stopped laughing, placing his elbows on the table and leaning over it so he was very close to his dinner date.

"I know that, stupid! Am I fat? Nope! Because I exercise and work out!" He giggled, "I found it cute that you were scared to tell me because you thought you'd hurt my feelings."

England blushed again, "Shut up, twat." Looking up through his eyelashes at his boyfriend who was still leaned over the table, he lifted his head and gave him a long, heated kiss, not caring who was watching. He could faintly hear France wolf-whistling and rolled his eyes.

After a moment, America drew back, looking surprised at England's daring actions but leaned over and muttered before grabbing England and kissing him back,

"I should eat like a pig more often."

* * *

_Lol! Hope you liked! Oh America, you big chubber! Reviews would be lovely! __Cheers LucyMoon1992 x_


	39. Bar Time

_Hiya! __Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all your kind reviews! _

_Thirty-Nine: Bar time._

* * *

There are two reasons why being a Kirkland is awesome. One, you have the coolest family ever. And two, you have seen your brother drunk so many times and it still never gets old. You still piss yourself laughing every time the words, 'ungrateful brat' spurt from his lips.

It was for that exact reason why, that Dylan (the personification of the country of Wales) and Allistor (the personification of the country of Scotland) were now convincing their dearest brother to accompany them on a drinking session.

"No."

The brothers winced at the harshness of England's tone but they didn't give up. They were under strict orders not to leave England's house without him.

"Come on England! We haven't gone to the pub together in ages, it'll be good fun." Wales chirped, grinning from ear to ear.

Giving a slight groan, England glanced up at his siblings from the desk he was sitting at in his dining room and gritted his teeth.

"Can't you see I'm busy? Go by yourselves."

"Look, we haven't had any bonding times in ages, mate. Get up. You're going."

England looked almost surprised at Scotland's sentence and rose uneasily from his chair.

"Well, I guess so. One drink won't hurt." He suddenly looked suspiciously at the two. "There won't be anyone else there, right? Just us?"

Scotland glanced quickly at Wales before stating gruffly, "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. Now, I don't own all the pubs in London, so who's knows who will be there, but it's a Thursday night, I'm sure the pubs will be empty."

* * *

"I'm leaving."

England turned on his heel and attempted to push open the door but his brother held him back.

"Come one. You promised. One drink."

"I promised shit, Wales. Now let me go. I'm going home."

"Angleterre!"

England brought his hand up to his face. "Oh God no…"

He was abruptly turned around and came face to face with his very own hole in the head, France.

"Ca va?"

"Fuck off."

France smirked, "Touchy, aren't we? Liven up, enjoy the party. Everyone is here!"

"That's exactly why I want to leave."

France rolled his eyes at his friend. "Let me get you a drink. Scotch and water?"

England sighed but nodded his head wearily and headed towards the bar with France. He took a quick glance around the room and saw that really every nation was there, chatting, dancing, drinking, laughing, _having fun. _

Bah humbug, England thought sourly and then gave a sigh of resignation. Ah, to hell with it.

"Make that two scotch and waters, France." _This was going to be a long night…_

* * *

Northern Ireland high-fived her brothers as they marched over to her and watched as England was dragged to the bar by France.

"Nice one boys. Phase one is complete. Now for phase two." She looked around her, "Where's the Yank?"

Then, right on cue, who should appear right beside her but the United States of America himself.

"My ear's must be burning, Northern Ireland." America grinned at the sister of England as she batted her eyelashes at him sweetly.

"America! There you are." Her voice had changed from its usual husky silkiness to a girlish sort of squeal.

America frowned. "You're up to something."

Scotland gave her a painful nudge and whispered, "Stop being so damn obvious!"

She coughed slightly and started again, "America, would you like a drink? Everyone needs to get the hero a drink." She smiled and he returned it uneasily.

"Well if you insist..."

"Lead the way, good sir."

She slapped hands with Wales as she went past and pressed her hand to her ear.

"Frisky Frog? Come in Frisky Frog!" She muttered as she passed through the crowds.

The reply was almost immediate. "Quoi? I hate that name, why can't we change it?"

"Shut up!" Emily snapped, "We don't have time for name changes. I have obtained The Fatass and we are heading your way. Is Eyebrows drunk yet?"

Suddenly she heard an indignant and extremely slurred, "Are you even listening to me, you damn frog? That's it, I'm going to kick your-"

"I'll take that as a yes." She rolled her eyes slightly, "See you in a few seconds. Over and out."

She looked up to see America staring at England, who was sitting up against the bar, babbling to France, very loudly.

"He's just such an idiot, y'know? He doesn't understand what's right in front of him. D'ya know what I mean, 'ough Frog?"

France was having a hard time containing his laughter as he nodded his head and feigned mock-sadness and pity. He glanced up to see America standing right in front of them, a look of pure malice on his face, while Northern Ireland stood behind him, grinning like a manic and texting Hungary and Japan to get the hell over to the bar quick.

"Ah, Angleterre-"

"I mean, what does a guy have to do to get him to notice? First off, he leaves me cryin' in the rain. What sort of prick does that? Then he makes me start to think of him as _not _a brother and begins to fuckin confuse me!" England grabbed at France's shirt desperately, "And now, I've fallen for the fat bastard and he doesn't 'ave a bleedin' clue. Not one!" He clung onto France urgently, "You're the self-proclaimed nation of love Francis. What do you think I should do?"

France simply smirked as he turned England's face towards the two nations standing in front of them and said, "Stop whining like a little bitch and tell_ him_, not me."

"A-America?"

Behind the superpower, three nations were munching on popcorn and were watching the scene unfold in amazement.

America frowned.

"You were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Well, um, I, ah,-"

"It's about damn time!"

Northern Ireland, Hungary and Japan's jaw's dropped at his words and they began squealing. Even Japan.

"Sheesh. Took you long enough to say it." America ran a hand through his hair and England sat before him, dumbfounded, "You could have said sooner. I was beginning to lose hope."

France, sighing in exasperation at England's frozen state, pushed the Brit forward, closer to America.

"I wasn't planning on telling you actually." England coughed uncomfortably as he felt he had sobered up completely.

America chuckled and tilted England's face up to his, making England scowl, "Well I'm glad you did. Cos now I can do this."

And with one swift movement, America brought his lips crashing down on England's.

* * *

_Squeallllllll! Hope you enjoyed! Please review if you can. __Danke, LucyMoon1992 x _


	40. Boyfriend

_Hiya! No cute introductions, very tired lol and going out tomorrow night! Yay! Enjoy today's chapter; Northern Ireland is up to her usual scheming! Enjoy!_

_Thank-you so, so, so much for your reviews. They make my boring and dull day! Thank you to **EmeraldHeart12, InvaderPey** and **summeranderson**__**.**__ I am your humble servant XD_

_Forty: Boyfriend_

* * *

"What is _wrong_ with you today?" England cried, unable to hide his irritation any longer.

Northern Ireland seemed unfazed; however, her mood just as sulky and listless as it had been since England had sat down beside her at the conference meeting at his house nearly five hours ago.

England had first thought he must be imagining things—Northern Ireland was hardly ever in a bad mood. Then he thought he definitely wasn't imagining things, but it was probably something trivial, so he'd attempted to take Emily's mind off of whatever it was by ordering some food and tea for them. But she was unresponsive, ignoring the plate of bacon and eggs sat in front of her, letting endless cups of Earl Grey go cold. More and more uneasy, England had set to the task of bringing up every different topic of conversation he could think of: sports (bad idea; Northern Ireland was still pissed at the fact that her pride and joy, Rory McIlroy, didn't do too well at Augusta last week, she didn't need reminding), politics, religion, the latest hit TV show, pop group, and West-End musical. Nothing elicited more than a grunt of agreement or an unconcealed sigh.

"Nothing," Northern Ireland murmured, her eyes peering sadly at the tile floor.

"Oh, please. You've been moping around like some poor lost soul all afternoon. You're never like this. What's going on?"

"You don't want to know."

England rolled his eyes. "You're my little sister," he mumbled with that feeling of unease that came with any confession of fondness, "of course I want to know."

"It's a boy problem."

"Never mind, you were right. I'm sure you can work it out on your own."

"I want a boyfriend."

England groaned. He should have known that being nosy would inevitably lead to talking about boy problems. And he _hated_ talking about boy problems.

"Oh, _please_." The sarcasm couldn't be helped. Sure, Northern Ireland had only ever had one boyfriend since they'd been siblings (who England was sure she was still with), but that was due to a lack of effort on Northern Ireland's part, nothing more.

"Is that really what's been bothering you all day? For God's sake, Northern Ireland, if you want a boyfriend, go get one."

"You say it like it's so easy."

"It _is_ easy. You pick a boy you like, let him buy you dinner a few times, and voila, you have a boyfriend. There. Problem solved, next question."

Northern Ireland sighed and folded her arms on the table, resting her head on them and pouting. "But how do I find one I like?"

"You just pick one. If it turns out you don't like him after all, you break up and try again. This is dating, not rocket science. Now cut out the whining and the excuses. If you really want a boyfriend, you can get one."

But Northern Ireland did not perk up or nod or even put up further argument, just huffed and pouted some more.

"_Fine,_ I'll help you," England said with the utmost irritation and spun around on his chair to survey the large conference room.

A handful of nations were loitering by the windows, smoking (his brothers), Italy and Germany were sharing a banana split at the other end of the conference table, much to Germany's embarrassment and just opposite them five seats were taken up by five nations that were all too familiar. England smirked. All single, all good-looking and France and Prussia undoubtedly had crushes on Northern Ireland anyway. "There," he said, pointing. "Five available nations. Pick one."

Northern Ireland creased her forehead and peered at the chattering nations. "The bad touch trio, America and Japan?"

"Sure, why not? They're nice and fun to be with and you already know them, right? What else do you want?"

And to his complete astonishment, Northern Ireland looked as though she might actually be considering it. In fact, after a moment of contemplation, Northern Ireland even looked _pleased_ by the idea. And it was then that England began to wonder if maybe this was a very bad idea after all.

"But then again, they _are _the bad touch trio, they didn't get that name for nothing and Japan gets really uncomfortable with feelings and closeness—"

"No, no, you're right. How come I never thought about it before?"

Well, at least the sulking and pouting was done with.

"So just flirt with him and he'll ask me out to dinner, you think?"

England rolled his eyes. "That's all."

"Do you think he'll mind if I do it in front of his friends?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm going. Wish me luck."

"Whatever."

He watched as Northern Ireland dragged a hand threw her brown locks—with conviction—and walked out toward the nations. Shaking his head, England leaned back on his elbows, wondering which one his sister would choose. He figured France was the most likely, as he was such an excellent cook, but Spain stood a good chance too as he was so upbeat and happy.

"Hi guys!" she greeted and was met with a round of cheery hellos. "Hey, um… America, I was wondering if I could ask you something."

England blanched and tumbled off his chair with a startled yelp. Northern Ireland and the other nations turned to him in surprise as he fumbled to climb back onto the seat.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine!" Inhaling a breath to steady himself, England glanced at America who was watching him with equal parts concern and mocking. He took a moment to give him his best unhappy glower, before strutting toward them, grabbing Northern Ireland harshly by the arm, and dragging her back to the other side of the conference table, loudly proclaiming, "I just remembered I have something very important to discuss with you!"

"What are you doing?" the young nation hissed once they were out of earshot of the guys. "I was just going to—"

"No! He is off limits!"

Northern Ireland blinked, then straightened her back and quirked an eyebrow. "And why is that?" she drawled as if she had almost been _waiting_ for this moment.

"It doesn't matter, he just is! And besides, I… I…" England resigned himself. "I know loads of other countries way more attractive than that i-idiot. If you want a boyfriend that bad, I'm sure I can acquaint you with a few less well-known nations."

At first Northern Ireland said nothing and England found his anxiety growing with every silent moment, strangely terrified that Northern Ireland might be really set on America. But then his sister shrugged and smiled—albeit teasingly. "It's grand, I like France better anyway," she said, and moved back toward her seat and pulled out a book, leaving England to release a huge breath of relief.

"By the way…" England swung around to see his sibling watching him with a proud grin. "…you totally walked right into that one."

* * *

_Yeoooo! Caught out England; scundered! Review! Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	41. Snoozing

_Hi, hi! I was staying at my friend's house in Belfast all last week so I couldn't update but here I am now, enjoy._

_Forty-One: Snoozing_

* * *

"Well. Would you look at that," said France.

"I know." Northern Ireland added, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the complimentary coffeemaker and plopped in a few spoonful's of sugar. "Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"I wish I had a camera."

"Don't worry," said Canada, sitting at the cabin's small kitchen island and working on a jigsaw puzzle. "Japan already took about a dozen pictures."

"Oh, good." Hungary rubbed at her head, her eyes glued to the spectacle in the living room.

America and England, fast asleep on the union-jack rug before the stone hearth. _Cuddling._

America, turned away from England, had his head resting upon England's arm. The Brit's other arm was draped over his waist, holding America close against him, his face buried into his messed up hair.

"I told you they should share a bed together," Northern Ireland said, smirking.

Hungary shook her head again. "You think they've been there all night?"

"Well, Japan claimed that America did go to their room after the movie was over, but he doesn't know when he got up again."

"But I was up at five this morning," said Canada, fitting two puzzle pieces together. "And there they were."

"Huh."

Hungary accepted a cup of coffee from Northern Ireland when it was handed to her, her gaze sweeping over the unusual couple again. "They're kind of cute, aren't they?"

"Very cute," agreed Northern Ireland, "when they're _sleeping_. I'm just sticking around to see their reactions when they finally _wake up."_

France raised his eyes with a mischievous twinkle. "Actually," he said, turning to glance over her shoulder at the couple. "I don't think they are sleeping."

His comment aroused a very small, almost unnoticeable tensing in the snoozing enemies.

"In fact," he continued, raising his voice as they all watched the pair with mute curiosity, "I think they've both been awake for the past hour, but they're just pretending to be fast asleep so that they don't have to get up and go back to fighting. I think they're enjoying this little truce. Maybe a little _too _much."

As they stared, two mutual blushes climbed up into the cheeks of England and America.

Northern Ireland snorted. Hungary gaped.

"Shut up," came a sleepy growl from the green-eyed nation.

England, for his part, resorted to loud snoring and tightened his hold around America.

Neither of them woke up.

* * *

_Cute, right? Hope you liked! LucyMoon1992 x_


	42. Pride

_Heyyyy everyone! On thursday, after four months of working on Dublin By Lamplight, my class and I performed it and it was amazing! Now all I have to do is assessments and that is my HND finished forever and I'll be going Brighton in September to do my last year in uni! So anyway that's why updates have been major slow._

_Thank you for all your support!_

_Forty-Two: Pride._

* * *

Green eyes locked on blue, both trying to stare each other out. After a few seconds, England tore his gaze away, only to look back at the smug look on America's face. The rest of the Allies looked on, entranced.

"Say it."

England glared.

"Like _hell."_

America raised his eyebrows.

"_Say it_."

England shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.

"I-I can't."

America frowned.

"Oh, I see. You can say it me when we're alone together, but I ask you to say it in front of people and your pride is getting in the way? You're too proud to admit it? That you finally-"

"Nughh! Please don't!" England begged, flapping his arms at America. The American ran a hand through his hair impatiently.

"Un-fucking-believable." He muttered, turning away from England and sat down again at the table.

France looked expectantly at England.

"Well done Angleterre. You've pissed him off now. Why can't you just say it? We all know what is now." And then began ranting at him in French, "Mon Dieu, dans mon pays, nous portons des vêtements de chaque autres tout le temps! Alors vous porter une veste de l'Amérique; et alors? Je pense qu'il est mignon!"

"Keep out of this frog! I don't need you babbling in that crappy language of yours. I don't understand it and even the sound of it offends me." England snapped at the Frenchman. He was nervous enough as it was; he didn't need that cheese-eating bastard making things worse.

"Can we please get on with the meeting?" China asked rubbing his temples slowing. _Meetings with the Allies were sometimes so tedious… _

Grumbling they complied with America still ignoring England.

"Okay, so what I think we should do concerning the-"

England mumbled out something extremely quickly but America caught the words. Being the only other nation who spoke English as their first language however, he was the only one who actually understood it.

America rolled his eyes at the Briton.

"Nuh uh. Say it properly. So that _everyone _can hear."

England drew a deep breath and said,

"Fine."

France, Russia and China all waited with baited breath.

"I like to wear America's bomber jacket on the weekends when we go on dates."

* * *

_Sorry if my French is a bit rusty; I'm used to be quite fluent but sometimes I get things wrong. France basically said that in his country they wear each other's clothes all the time and he thinks it's cute that England wears America's jacket. Review if you want. Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	43. What Was He Like?

_Hello everyone! Hope you's are all in good form :) __OMG! YOU GUYS ROCK! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS, ALERTS AND FAVOURITES!_

_Forty Three: What was he like?_

* * *

England's youngest sibling looked up from her cooking of vegetable stew to raise her eyebrows at the handsome man leaning against the doorway of her kitchen. She turned off the heat, threw off her apron and smiled.

The man in the doorway shuffled nervously, feeling completely stupid and wishing he had not bothered to come round to Northern Ireland's house and should have waiting to ask her at this evening's party.

"What was that?" She asked, smile getting steadily bigger and bigger.

"I said," The man shifted his gaze to the floor and mumbled, "I was wondering if you could tell me what England was like when he was younger. Like in his pirate days..."

Northern Ireland grinned.

"Well, you in luck because there's only a handful of people who could tell you and I'm one of them."

She quickly walked past him and he followed her into her downstairs bedroom. She went into the wardrobe and found a small, worn-out box. She set it on the bed and indicated for the man to sit down as well.

"This," she said, opening the lid, "is the only thing I have which shows real proof that England was a pirate. I mean you would never have guessed by how he acts now; all stuffy and formal. Sometimes, if he's being incredibly annoying, I bring up the subject of his piracy and that shuts him right up." She giggled and reaching into the tiny box, she withdrew a very old, dusty picture. She blew on it and when the dust fell away, the man gasped.

The picture was of England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales on a very large boat. All were dressed in magnificent clothing and England was holding a large bottle of something, (the man presumed ale), in one hand and another slinged around Northern Ireland's waist. Their brothers were shoulder to shoulder and all were grinning madly. The man smiled.

"You're all pissed."

Northern Ireland laughed.

"Nope. Not me. Remember, I wasn't a country back then. I was just a little province- Ulster. Look who young and innocent I was back then." She smiled fondly at the picture. The man stifled his laughter. Yeah, innocent is exactly a word someone associates Northern Ireland with anymore.

He returned his focus to the picture and couldn't stop himself gazing at England the most.

"England certainly looks…different." The man coughed slightly and Northern Ireland smirked.

"By different you mean hot?"

The man's eyes widened and he began sputtering excuses but the young girl didn't want to hear any of it.

"Ah, ah, ah! Stop trying to tell me you don't think he's good-looking because he is. He wasn't all perfect though. Actually he was a bit of a twat really. Killing everyone, left, right and centre, stealing everything and anything he could find and letting his men rape and plunder entire villages. I never said anything because I didn't want any of that to happen to me. He was quite fond of me at the time; I didn't want that to change. But I knew it wasn't right."

Northern Ireland shrugged before eyeing up the man opposite her gleefully.

"Just why did you want to know all of this anyway? It's not like you two are the best of friends or anything."

He shrugged. "No reason. Just doing a little background information hunting on all the European countries for my boss."

Northern Ireland stuck the lid back on the box and put it back into her wardrobe before returning to sit opposite her visitor, titling her head in confusion.

"Why would your boss want-"

"Shut up Emily, would you? I couldn't think of a decent excuse." He glared at her and she gasped excitingly and clapped her hands.

"Yay! I knew it! You like England, you like England! I always knew there was something there."

"Bite me." He muttered, giving Northern Ireland a small shove, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You have to tell him! Tonight!" Northern Ireland cried. The man glanced at her uneasily.

"I don't know…"

Northern Ireland rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! You have to. Go home and get ready. Be back here in an hour. That gives us forty-five minutes until the party starts to practice your confession."

She grabbed him and hauled him to her front door, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"My _confession_?" He blurted out in bewilderment.

"Yes." She said, pushing him out the door, "Now go!"

And slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Across the Irish Sea, a blonde-haired man checked himself out in a large mirror in his bedroom and then threw on a light blue jacket over his outfit. He smiled at his appearance and tugged at the lapels of his jacket.

Suddenly his whole body stiffened and he let out a low growl, glaring in the direction of the only country he ruled that he didn't border with.

The thing about being the leader of a group of nations was you could feel what the countries you were ruling were feeling. Now, the feeling passing through the body of the United Kingdom was complete and utter mischief, and England knew actually who was feeling it.

Striding quickly over to his phone, he quickly dialled a number he has called so many times before. A sweet, caring voice answered on the third beat.

"NORHTERN IRELAND! WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME?!"

* * *

_Hehehe! This could be left as a cliff-hanger or I could to another chapter for it where it shows the party and what happens with England and America? Tell me what you think. __Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x _


	44. What Was He Like? Part Two

_Ok, ok! You can stop screaming at me; I get it! I suck at updating, tell me something I don't know. Lol! Anywho, due to popular demand, I am doing a part 2 for the last day's challenge, because I listen to what my fans what! :D Enjoy!_

_Thanks so much to InvaderPey, Amber Star 1114 and AnimeFreakOfCouse for reviewing the last chapter!_

_Forty-Four: What was like? Part Two_

* * *

America looked nervously around the large ballroom which was full of hundreds of different countries. Every couple of minutes, some god-awful nation, of which he had no idea of their existence, would come up to him, gushing about how brilliant he was. _No shit. Like I don't tell myself that everyday…_

Unfortunately for these small countries, America wasn't really listening to everything they had to say. He was looking right and left every couple of seconds, fidgeting with his hair, his clothes; swatting at his jacket and his trousers; desperately_ looking for the host…_

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small hand grabbed his and hauled him into the kitchen. He whirled around but drew a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Northern Ireland dressed in a gold maxi dress, accompanied with Scotland wearing an elegant dark blue suit. The Scotsman was smirking at America who, in turn, scowled at him.

"Yes, Scotland?" He asked, through gritted teeth. _Damn the United Kingdom Four, for all looking the same and finding enjoyment in pissing me off whenever they can…_

Scotland shrugged, "Nothing." he said but then started laughing, "I just think it's hilarious that you like England! I mean, you are insane?! The man was former pirate! And you know what he was like; Northern Ireland told you. You may think he's all gentlemanly now but see if you get into a relationship with him, his little charade will soon stop and he'll act the way he does around us." Allistor grinned while his sister rummaged through her handbag, looking for cigarettes.

"I think that's exactly what America wants." She mumbled, finally finding her smokes and immediately lighting up. Her sibling glared at her.

"Would you stop smoking? It's disgusting."

Northern Ireland snorted.

"Pot and kettle right there, brother _dearest_."She spat sarcastically and America sighed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your pointless fighting but could we _please _focus on me for just one tiny minute?"

The two countries muttered an apology and were silent before Northern Ireland said, "Look, you've already practiced it with me, you can do this. It's not a love confession America; you simply asking the guy on a date. Make it casual but not too uncaring. Make it flirty but not overly-slutty. Make it-"

"Okay, okay! I get it." America cried.

Northern Ireland grinned.

"Brilliant! Well, good luck. I need to get back to the party but Scotland is going to give you some liquid courage. See you in a few minutes!"

And with that Northern Ireland dashed from the room, leaving Scotland to hand America a very large bottle of whiskey…

* * *

Quickly throwing her cigarette into an ash-tray, Emily Kirkland downed her large pint of Harp and confidently walked over to her oldest brother. Upon greeting him, his eyes narrowed and he folded his arms over his chest.

"Thank-you for hanging up on me as soon as you answered the phone. What is going on? You're up to something. I can feel it- _literally."_

She smiled softly, reaching up onto her tip-toes to give him a kiss of the cheek.

"Nice to see you too. And I was doing nothing. Just fooling around with France and he decided to get some whipped crea-"

"Neughhh! Dear god, please, stop!" England cried, grabbing at his ears while his sister gave him a smirk.

"I was just _going_ to say that we covered Wales front door in cream and found it with hilarious but I should have known," She poked her brother, smiling wolfishly, 'You're just a big pervert. I honestly do feel sorry for America…"

England growled at her.

"I am _not _a pervert- wait, what did you say about America?"

_Oh Fuck, shit, bugger, wanker!_

"Uh, nothing. I just remember that America has something very important to discuss with you. Very important indeed."

England nodded. _Oh. This is good. America wanted to talk business. Thank God. He had really started to freak him out lately. England could have sworn that every time he looked up at world meetings, America would be sitting there, staring at him..._

The kitchen door then opened and America came out, followed by Scotland and America marched right up to Northern Ireland and England. He pointedly looked at Northern Ireland until she understood.

"OH! Oh right, yes, I have to go and see some of the other guests, I haven't seen my boyfriend all evening. Talk later!" She winked at America and grabbed Scotland and pulled him away with her.

England turned to America, smiling slightly.

"Northern Ireland said you have something to discuss with me?"

_Fucking bitch…_America thought angrily. Wasn't he allowed to do _anything _on his own?

"Uh, yeah," America murmured, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, constantly hopping where he stood, extremely nervous, "England, I wanted to talk to you about something that's been on my mind lately. Us."

England frowned.

"Us?" He tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Meaning…?"

America laughed uneasily.

"Yeah, you know, our relationship. I mean, our governments get on really well so I just wanted to know what you think of me, personally. As a person, not a nation."

England stared blankly at the man in front of him for a moment before raising his eyebrows uncertainly.

"Well…I don't know, I think you are a nice enough lad, I mean we get on fin-"

"I WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU WOULD GO OUT FOR DINNER WITH ME NEXT WEEK?"

America didn't know why he practically screamed his proposal at England but he did know that, now, everyone was staring at the two of them. The room became deadly silent so the guests could watch and listen.

England's face turned the cutest shade of red and America couldn't help but smile.

"Um…why?"

The question took America by surprise and he threw Northern Ireland a look of desperation, not knowing what to say. She simply nodded at him, mouthing,

"_Tell him." _America turned back to England, feeling more nervous than he'd ever been in his whole life.

"Because I like you."

The crowd that had basically formed a big circle around the two nations suddenly started "oohing" and" aahing" and "awwwwing", all smiling at sweet, caring America, while he grinned sheepishly at England, who's mouth was agape and was staring at America like he had three heads.

Suddenly noticing all the people gathered around him and America, he snapped his mouth shut and again, crimson colouring his cheeks a delightful bright red and he stiffly nodded at America. America smirked.

"Sorry, I don't understand. Yes or no?"

England growled. _Stop fucking playing games with me America!_

"Yes…I would like to go to dinner with you…" He mumbled, staring at his feet. Northern Ireland suddenly jumped forward, giving England a big smack on the back.

"Awesome! So it's a date then!"

America moved closer to England, leaning down and whispered in his ear, so only he could hear.

"Yeah. Looks like it."

* * *

_There you go! Personally, I don't like it but tell me what you think.__Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x_


	45. Best Party On The Block

_Heyyy everyone! Let's get straight on with today's chapter._

_A million thanks to Amber Star 1114, Roseflame44, InvaderPey and xBurgersandScones for reviewing. You guys are the reason I update so I thank you for giving me something to smile about._

_Forty-Five: The best party on the block._

* * *

The music was blaring loudly and screeching through the whole house. People were dancing left, right and centre and England could hear Italy destroying the perfectly good song that was 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' on the karaoke machine in the main ballroom. He looked around for the host, but couldn't see him anywhere and instead his thoughts were interrupted by a handsome and extremely drunk Frenchman.

"Angleterre! Mon ami, come and here and give me a hug!" France reached for England and England rolled his eyes but embraced the pissed blonde-haired man. France looked to him and smiled.

"You know, I am so happy that you have found love. I never thought you would but _voilà_, your _brother _asks for his independence so he can tell you he's in love with you; the most adorable thing I have ever seen. Ah, amour, the things it makes us do…"

England rolled his eyes slightly at France before saying, "Yes, it's _insane_, speaking of which, have you seen America? I can't find him anywhere."

France shrugged and shook his head.

"I can't remember what happened five minutes ago. Anyway, I only came over here because I saw the retreating form of my petite-amie, who just happens to be your sister." He winked at England as England glared at him as he continued, 'Hon-hon, what I wouldn't do to that bo-"

"Oi! I don't want to hear this kind of stuff; that's my little sister you're talking about and it's a bloody miracle that I accept that she loves you as it is but the fact that you stand here and talk about her in such a manner, offends me, frog. Honestly man. I wonder why she puts up with you..."

The Frenchman said nothing but did "the laugh" while England continued to glare at him.

Suddenly the microphone that had been filling the house with Italy's terrible singing was grabbed by someone else and England's heart starting beating twice as fast when the voice that came on was unmistakable.

It was America.

"Hey everyone, I hope you're all enjoying the party and aren't as drunk as some nations…cough, cough…France…cough, cough." England chuckled as France stopped laughing and glared at the speakers.

"But, I have to tell you the reason I wanted to have this party. As many of you may know, I'm in love. And have been for many years. But have never had the chance to say what I really feel, in front of everyone. But now I do. So here goes: England? If you can hear this, I want you to know that I'm in love with you. Always have been. Always will be."

England gaped at the speakers and the promptly turned the cutest shade of tomato red as everyone starting turning around and staring at him, smiling fondly. His little sister appeared out of nowhere and nudged him on the arm and winked.

"Because I'm in love with you, and I know you're in love with me and have known way before you told me because your sister confessed it to me, (England whirled around and scowled at Northern Ireland while she starting slowly walking away, grabbing France as she went) so I would like to say or should I say, _ask, _just one more thing."

England perked up to listen and felt his jaw drop at the question.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

_Mwahahaha, I'm not going to continue this one shot but leave it up to you to think what Iggy would have answered! As this is a US/UK Fanfic, you should assume that he says yes but whatever! __ Thanks for reading and review please! LucyMoon1992 x _


	46. Someone's Hero

_Hey, hey! Thanks to all the reviews yesterday, I decided to update today! See this is what happens when you lovely people review my story so thank-you. Enjoy._

_Forty-Six: Someone's Hero_

* * *

_Oh God, not again…_

England sighed.

12th February 1942. It was a brisk, cold, winter's day in England's house and all the allies had met to finalise the plans of 'Operation Chariot' or as it was informally known as 'The raid of St. Nazaire.'

England was wondering why America was even there. He wasn't taking part in this mission. He had a few of his OSS agents in England's ranks but they were there for their own reasons.

Of course, America decided he had to be at _every _single meeting and even though he had nothing to do with the plan, he would flash a grin at them all and declare,

"Then I'll be the hero!"

England gritted his teeth and glared at the American. He looked around him and saw that everyone else was wearing the same mask of annoyance.

"No thanks." England replied coldly, "I'm not really up for another one of your half-wit schemes. This mission doesn't even concern you, so if you don't mind, would you please leave? The grown-up's need to talk." England smiled patronizingly at America and France, China and Russia snorted, trying to hide their laughter.

America frowned and felt anger start to rise from within him. _What the hell was England's problem?_

"Why do you hate me? Are you still pissed off about that whole revolutionary war thing?"

Beside England, France choked on the cigarette he was smoking and Russia eyes darted to England, who had frozen, his face turning from white, to red, to purple. _He's going to blow…!_

Suddenly bursting up from his chair, England grabbed America and threw him up against the wall. He pinned America's arms above his head and snarled.

"How dare- how _dare _you say stuff about _that, _in front of certain company. You're the one who's always going on about how we need to come together during times likes these but then again you're also the one who wanted his independence and even went so far as to fight for it and kill your own brothers!"

America had never seen England so angry. He glanced quickly over England's shoulder for help but everyone had diverted their eyes to different points in the room. _Bastards…_

"America." America turned his attention back to England, whose face was full of fury, "You _want_ to be the hero? Then fine. I'm finished here!"

England growled at the America, drew away from him, grabbed his belongings from the table and briskly walked out of the room.

Walking down the corridor, he groaned, realising that this was _his _house and he could kick America out!

_Speak of the devil…_

"Hey England! Wait up." America called, running to catch up with him. England spun on his left heel to face America.

"I think I made it clear that I'm really not in the mood to speak with you." He said, keeping his lips into a tight line to stop him from snarling at the nervous American in front of him.

"Look, I'm sorry I mentioned the revolutionary war. Can we please forget about it? At least until the war's over? I did mean what I said, we _need_ to stick together." He suddenly looked very uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you..."

He trailed off and refused to meet England's confused gaze. After a moment, England chuckled at America.

"Hm, that _almost_ sounded like you cared for me." He laughed, deep from his throat and America scowled.

"Almost? _Almost?_ There's no 'almost' about it, England. I _do_ care for you!" America cried indignantly.

England stopped laughing and stared at him seriously.

"Oh yes, because nothing says, I like you, like a declaration of independence and tearing someone's heart out by saying you no longer want to be their brother." England spat back, sarcastically.

America nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on England's face.

"Right, okay. You think I wanted independence to be apart from you? Man and they call me stupid…" America mused and England frowned.

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" England asked and before he could say another word, America walked forward, grabbed England by his shirt and kissed him passionately on the lips.

He pulled back when both of them needed to breathe. America raised his eyebrows at England.

"I wanted my independence so you would stop looking at me like a kid brother." England's mouth became an 'O' shape and he looked away, sheepishly. "I always said I wanted to be the hero. But not just anyone's hero."

He smiled at England.

"I always wanted to be _your_ hero."

* * *

_Awk! Hope you liked, please review! LucyMoon1992 x_


	47. Karma

_Hey! So I updated my other story so if you wanna check it out, please do and review! Enjoy today's chapter!_

_This one-shot is set in the World Academy where everyone is a student XD_

_Forty-Seven: Karma_

* * *

England was not in the habit of eavesdropping on other nation's conversations but when two nations he didn't recognise sitting next to him in the canteen mentioned America, he had no choice but to tune his ears in that direction.

"I mean, yeah, he's good-looking and all," the guy was saying to his friend, "but he has the mental capacity of a stump."

The temperature dial on England's blood instantly switched to boiling.

"But he's so nice," said the guy's friend. "How can you not like him?"

"I didn't say I don't like him, I just said he's dumb. He's the reasons blondes have a bad name. Well… him and that France guy he hangs out with."

Despite his anger, England couldn't disagree there- France was a prat. Nevertheless, England's fingers clenched, crumpling the newspaper in his hands until the opinionated editorials whimpered for mercy.

"Plus, you know he never studies, but he always whines when the teacher gives him a bad grade. I mean, what does he expect? Pity?"

The fact that England had used many of these same insults against the American did not even cross England's mind. All he could think was, how dare this nation talk bad about America—lovable, cheerful, sunshine-beautiful America? Just who did he think he was?

"Not to mention the fact he can't walk down one corridor without tripping himself up and taking at least three other people down with him."

"Be fair," the friend jumped in. "It's not his fault he's uncoordinated."

The boy snorted. "It is_ his_ fault he doesn't pay attention to where he's going. And that he's always running into class at the last minute because he overslept again, and inevitably trips over a desk or a chair or ploughs into some hapless victim. The guy's a danger to society. He should really be locked up."

The friend laughed, somewhat unwillingly, and red spots flickered in England's eyes. He practiced his meditative breathing, even as he strangled the newspaper. He reminded himself that karma worked in mysterious ways. Karma would ensure that this nation got what he deserved for talking behind America's back. He would have a horrible, meaningless life. He would die old and alone. He would one day overhear his friends talking about him in such a mean, condescending manner, and he would break down and cry like a baby on national television and everyone would laugh at him.

Hell, just the fact that this guy couldn't see America for what he really was—a really caring, kind, glowing star in an otherwise dark and dismal world—was punishment in itself.

"Maybe if he ever showed a hint of maturity I could let it slide, but he doesn't. And people ignore it because he's _nice,_ but that just spoils him even more, so whenever something doesn't go his way he whines and wails and—"

England's hand whipped out, the back of his hand smacking the nation's head and knocking him off his chair. The boy yelped and landed, sprawled, on the linoleum floor. Rubbing his head and cursing, he turned to gape up at England.

"Sorry," the Brit said, smiling. He rubbed his shoulder. "Had a twitch."

Sometimes karma could use _a little help._

* * *

_Lol! Hope you liked! Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	48. Other Half

_Hey, hey! So please check out my other story 'Matchmaker', I've just updated it so please review it too!_

_Thank you a billion times for everyone who reviewed last chapter: AngelLove'sAnime, InvaderPey (loved your little story btw, ha-ha!), ElliMacaroni and Iggymochi._

_Forty-Eight: Other Half_

* * *

He pulled himself onto the kitchen stool, watching his brother whisking a bowl of pancake batter. "Hey, bro?" he began, and his expression must have spoken of rare seriousness, because the whisk froze mid-stir.

"Yes, America?"

"How did you know that Prussia was your other half?"

His brother paused, blank for a moment, before sucking in a long breath as if in preparation for a very, very long story. But then he said, quite simply, "Oh-I just knew."

* * *

America cupped his face in both hands, waiting for France to drop one of the eggs he was juggling so he could speak to him. But he'd been practicing, and a dropped egg did not seem to be soon forthcoming. "France?"

"Oui?"

His eyes trace the white orbs through the air. "How did you know that Emily was your soul mate?"

_Splat. Splat. Splat._

America glanced down to see the mess of yoke and shell on the floor. He peered up at France, but he was staring into space, half-smiling. "Well..." he said, rubbing his slight beard. "I'm not sure. I guess I just knew."

America nodded in understanding. "Sorry about the eggs."

He shrugged, glancing down at his mess. "Maybe I should start practicing with lemons."

* * *

America wrapped his jacket around himself as tight as he could as he walked with his friend through her bustling capital. _Isn't it meant to be summer here?_ But Northern Ireland didn't seem to mind the weather as she walked quickly, hands carrying numerous ingredients for her dinner with her family that evening.

America rolled his eyes skyward, blowing softly into his hands. "Northern Ireland?"

Northern Ireland didn't look at up as she hurried along. "Yeah?"

"How did you know that you and France were two halves of the same soul?"

Surprise flashed over Northern Ireland's face, and then bloomed into a red-hot blush.

"What's gotten into you; asking weird questions like that?"

America twiddled his thumbs. "I just wanted to know."

Giggling slightly at America's confusing nature, she gave a small shrug and finally looked up at him, her chocolate eyes sparkling. "I guess I just knew."

* * *

America stretched out in the grass, hands on his stomach, and watched the cotton-ball clouds drift by. Japan, beside him, was reading a book the size of his head, eyes fixed on the book.

"It sure is a shame," said America, "that England has to be so mean to me all the time."

Japan made a sound of acknowledgment and nodded. "Yes. You would think a nation of his age and intelligence would not feel the need to act so immature around you, a nation of your…um..." He flushed and began apologising profusely for inadvertently insulting his friend.

"Oh, I don't care about that," said America, waving a hand through the air. "It's just...he's going to feel _so_ horrible when he realises that we're soul mates."

Japan's head snapped up. "_Soul mates_?"

"Oh yeah. Didn't you know?"

Jaw agape, Japan slowly shook his head. "Are you serious?"

"Mmhmm." A cloud in the shape of a toy soldier skittered by.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. I know it seems far-fetched, but...well...I just know. And I intend to give him the biggest guilt-trip in the history of apologies when he figures it out too."

* * *

_Ha-ha! Just a wee cute story today! Hope you liked! Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


	49. Define LOVE

_Hey, hey! Other chapter, yay!_

_A special thanks to EuterpeDream, Roseflame44, aquamarinetiger98, Amber Star 1114, InvaderPey, Hysterical Insanity (your review made me laugh!) and Anne Fatalism Dilettante (I know exactly what you mean, university is a complete douche!) for reviewing the last chapter!_

_IMPORTANT NOTICE: I was thinking of only doing 50 of these. If you want me to do more, tell me so and I'll keep going._

_Forty-Nine: Define L.O.V.E_

* * *

"Alright, alright, everyone SHUT UP!"

The conference room went silent when instead of hearing Germany screaming, the nations looked up to see England's identical brother Wales, who was usually one of the quietest people ever, standing at the top of the table, grinning madly with a pile of pages pressed against his chest.

He quickly zoomed around the room and handed each nation a page. The nations started murmuring when they saw what was written on their page.

"Um, Wales?" New Zealand hesitantly raised his hand, "What the hell?"

Wales quietened them all again and announced, "Right! So basically, this is for the Hetalia Academy's archives, we needed some more information on each country so please fill it in. Take your time and if you don't want to fill it in that's fine too. Okay, everyone. Ready, steady, go!"

England stared blankly down at the page.

_Define L.O.V.E._

_What the fuck? _

Was Wales actually serious? He casually looked up to see directly opposite him his two other siblings staring at him desperately. He shrugged and they both grimaced, mouthing to him _'Fuck you.' _He sighed.

_Oh my family…you gotta love 'em…_

He looked further down the long, wooden table and spotted France scribbling furiously, glancing up and looking at Northern Ireland every couple of minutes and smiling. England glared. _Froggy, lecherous bastard… _

Beside him Spain had his pen poised at the ready to write but kept looking up to see Romano giving him a don't-you-even-dare-write-about-me glower and so Spain was just sat there, only writing something every time Romano looked away.

Casting his eyes around the room, England found everyone writing away, constantly trying to catch the gaze of their companion and give them a quick, loving smile.

England felt all alone.

Then, feeling like he was being watched, he looked up and his eyes met with a pair of ocean blue ones. He blinked once or twice and then frowned.

"What?" He hissed quietly at the man sitting beside Scotland.

"Nothing." The man whispered back, giving _him _the smile that everyone else was giving each other, and returned to his paper.

Mouth agape, England stared at him for a moment before picking up his pen and began writing.

_Love, to me, only means one thing. America._

* * *

_Aw! I thought it was cute! Wee England =) He's such a wee dote, isn't he? Anyway, t__hanks guys! LucyMoon1992 x_


	50. Fangirl Problems

_Hey, hey! So, because so many of you have said you really want me to continue, I shall! I don't know for how long but we'll just take each day as it comes, yes? Anyway, there's the next chapter, enjoy!_

_Fifty: Fangirl Problems_

* * *

"Are they gone yet?"

Northern Ireland stopped what she was doing, briefly surveyed the large canteen in the conference hall in England, then stepped back from the table and peered underneath at her brother who was crouched between Scotland and Wales' legs.

"Yes, they're gone."

Breathing a sigh of relief, England slowly uncurled himself and crept out of his hiding place. He stood up with a long stretch, his back having begun to ache from his twenty-minute stowaway excursion. With a few pops in his shoulder blades he felt the stiffness melt away. Shaking his feet, he was relieved to feel the pins and needles fading as the blood returned to his limbs.

"Good afternoon, England!"

England froze; all tenseness and ill-feelings returning. Without turning around, he shot an icy glare at Northern Ireland, who shrugged innocently. "Except that one."

Groaning audibly, England turned toward the voice and plastered on a cool smile. A girl was leaning provocatively over the table, dark-brown curls falling over her shoulders and long lashes fluttering flirtatiously over chocolate-coloured eyes.

"Hello, Seychelles."

"The rest of the girls went to that new chocolate shop across the street to buy you some truffles-you like truffles, right?"

England did like truffles, but the thought of accepting such a gift from "the girls" made him queasy. "Sometimes," he amended.

Seychelles licked her glossy lips and her smile widened. "So while we're alone, I was hoping I could ask you some questions."

Running a hand through his hair, England looked pleadingly at Northern Ireland, who stood looking unashamedly amused at her brother's predicament. "Actually, Seychelles, I have some things to get done today and better be go-"

"Oh, it'll only take a second!" she chirped. "I only want to ask about your hopes and dreams and interests and goals and likes and dislikes and pet peeves and fantasies and favourite things and what makes you laugh and what makes you cry and..."

"...and how you became to be such a dickhead," interrupted a sarcastically-amused voice. "You know all the normal fangirl things."

England and Seychelles turned to see America standing with a smirk on his face. Seychelles' cheerful gaze quickly fell into a glare full of contempt, whereas England felt a hopeful flutter in his chest.

"Oh, it's _you_," Seychelles drawled.

"Right back at you," America said, though he covertly hid any signs of bitterness behind a friendly grin.

"Don't you have to play with your PlayStation or something?" Seychelles said, gesturing toward the door.

America shrugged and claimed the table beside Seychelles. "All in good time. There's a tradition to this, you know. First: get a free coffee of the cute waitress- she fancies me. Second: call England a few choice names. _Then_ and only _then _will I think about going to play Super Mario Brothers." He smiled at Northern Ireland, who immediately went to go him said coffee, then turned to face Seychelles again. "Now, don't you have something better to do than pester everyone's favourite douche?"

Seething, Seychelles muttered through clenched teeth, "I'm waiting on some friends."

"Oh, right, I was wondering where the rest of the cronies were today."

As if on cue, four other nations entered the canteen with linked arms, looking both excited and nervous. They approached England's table, taking shy looks at the Brit-who was wondering if anyone would notice if he conveniently crawled back into his hiding place.

America looked at the girls in distaste. He couldn't remember all their names (the only name he really needed to know was his after all) but he could tell they were former colonies of the British Empire-nations he would have once considered as 'sisters'.

"Here, Seychelles," said a blonde girl with a grin, handing a gold-wrapped package to Seychelles.

Having to force herself to ignore America for a moment, Seychelles stood from the stool, flipped her curls over one shoulder, batted her lashes at England, and ceremoniously held out the package. "Arthur," she said sweetly and America saw red. _How dare she call him by his human name?!_, "this is for you. It's a gift that symbolises all of our complete adoration and commitment to you, from the Green-Eyed Girls, your devoted fan club."

America snorted loudly and didn't try to conceal his rolling eyes as England, feeling all the weight of social etiquette pressing down on him, slowly reached forward and took the package, even though it was just about the last thing he wanted to do. From the corner of his eye, he saw Northern Ireland desperately trying to contain her laughter.

"Uh... thanks."

The girls swooned in unison.

"Okay!" said America, clapping his hands of imaginary dirt, "Now that we got the sacrificial gift out of the way, can you leave the poor guy alone?"

Seychelles folded her arms. "You're just jealous because England likes us!" she said with false certainty.

"Hate to say it, but I think you might be confusing affection with politeness. Besides, why anyone would ever want England to like them is completely beyond me. Oh, thanks!" America chirped to the cute waitress, happily accepting the proffered steaming cup of coffee. "Now then," he said after taking a long gulp of the dessert, "you came, you ogled, you drooled, and you swooned. Now scram before I get Northern Ireland on you." America gestured over his shoulder and the Green-Eyed Girls all turned to see England's sister, quietly reading a book. She suddenly looked up at the girls and grinned. She stretched her hands above her head and then popped her knuckles.

"Fine," Seychelles spat, looking a little more anxious . "But one of these days England is going to realize how much he appreciates us in his life and then you'll be the one ogling and swooning from the side-lines."

"I can't wait," America mumbled.

With a few more coy glances in England's direction, the fan club slowly meandered out of the canteen. By the time the doors were closing, America could already hear their shrill cries of "Oh my god, he's so cute!" and "I think he winked at me... or maybe it was a twitch..." and "If he got any more gorgeous I would just die!"

Shuddering, America swivelled on his stool to face England, who was looking at him with an appreciative, dazed grin.

"Thank-you."

America shrugged as if to say it had been nothing. "Someone's got to watch out for you. If I let them get carried away, I'm sure they would clobber you over the head and drag you back to their cave, and then who would I have to argue with every day?"

England's smile widened and he leaned against the back of his chair, looking a hundred times more comfortable and relaxed than he had been a moment before. "Well, whatever your reasoning, how about some chocolate as a show of my gratitude?"

America eyed the gold-wrapped box hungrily. Just as he reached one hand forward, he looked up at England with a mischievous smirk and drew close to him, brushing his lips against England's ear. "Careful, douche-bag. Keep this up and I might have to join that fan club."

America was too busy devouring a cherry cordial to notice England's reddening face.

* * *

_LOLOL! Kind of jealous America, I didn't want to make it extremely obvious. Hope you liked! Dziękujemy za, LucyMoon1992 x_


	51. Kidnapped

_Hey, hey! Sorry for the slow updates, I've been major busy!_

_Thanks for the reviews you lovely, lovely people :D_

_Fifty-One: Kidnapped_

* * *

"FRANCE!"

The Frenchman cursed under his breath and spun on his heel, flashing a winning smile at the angry Englishman approaching him.

"Mon Cher." Une pleasure, as usual."

"Stop speaking in that foul-mouthed mother tongue of yours. _Now_," He frowned at France before saying, "Hand him over."

The Frenchman's left eye twitched as he shrugged and replied, "Désolé?"

England began tapping his foot impatiently.

"America. Hand him over. I know you took him…_again."_

France gasped in horror. "I have done no such th-"

"England! England!"

A loud voice was heard from above them and they both looked up to see Little America, sitting in a tree. He grinned at England and jumped, England just about catching him.

"You're here! I was starting to think you weren't going to save me." He giggled and wrapped his arms around England's neck. England raised his eyebrows at France.

"Oh?" He prompted casually.

"Yes," Little America nodded enthusiastically. "Mr France here came over to my house earlier while you were gone and said he had all these toys that you had bought me over at his house. I was so happy because your toys are the best! So I followed him and just a moment ago he started to get all panicky and told me to hide up in the tree and not to say to anybody that I was up here. But, of course, you're my big brother; I _had_ to say hello to you!"

England slowly starting advancing on France, the phrase _'if looks could kill'_ came to mind and he put Little America down, gently on the ground.

"Mon Dieu, I didn't even realise that was Amerique! I thought it was someone else…" He trailed off and then tried to be apologetic.

"Hehe…oops?"

At that France bolted and the Englishman charged after him.

"FRANCE!"

* * *

_Never done a one-shot with chibi America so here is the first one! Hope you liked! __ Please review! LucyMoon1992 x_


	52. TV Browsing

_Hey Guys! Thanks very much for the reviews; they make me smile! Anyway here's a new chapter; enjoy!_

_Fifty-Two: TV Browsing_

* * *

America flicked through the channels aimlessly, turning it over before England could even see what the programme was. Finally, giving a howl of irritation, England grabbed the control off America and, without looking at the channel, set the remote down, gave America a cold look and turned his attention to the screen.

England froze.

'_The brotherly relationship between England and America changed irreversibly when an older America declared to England that he was no longer his little brother and wanted to be independent. England, unwilling to let this happen, managed to overpower America but ultimately found himself unable to shoot his former colony. When England collapsed into tears at America's feet, America looked down and remembered when he looked up to England as a child; he comments that England used to be so great.'_

England, shaking, hastily grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. Silence reigned over America's living room before he decided to speak.

"England-"

England put his hand up to stop him and silence once again came over the large room. The Briton stood up and managed to speak. _Damn it to hell. And I was actually enjoying spending time with America...for once._

"I'm just going to g-go..." England hadn't even taken two steps before America grabbed his hand and pulled him back, whirling him round to face his ex-colony. They stared at each before England managed to say what he for so long desperately wanted to know.

"_Why?"_

America said nothing but leaned forward and just barely put his lips onto England's. England's eyes widened and when America pulled back, England gingerly put his fingers against his lips and looked to America in confusion. America chuckled.

"And they call me stupid?" He nervously ran a hand through his hair and shrugged, "That's why."

England's jaw dropped and America just nodded.

"When you love someone, you go to any lengths possible to get them. It only took you 200 odd years to realise."

England suddenly threw himself at America and kissed him feverishly. He pulled back only for a moment to mutter,

"And it only took _you _200 odd years to realise that I love you back."

* * *

_Awwww! Hope you liked! Please review, I work hard on these and reviews make me wanna continue! LucyMoon1992 x_


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